


The Unexpected One

by blue_the_blue_raspblue1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alecto Carrow - Freeform, Amicus Carrow, Angst, Antonin Dolohov - Freeform, Bellatrix Lestrange - Freeform, Dobby (Harry Potter) Lives, Fluff, Gay Sex, Good Severus Snape, Headmaster Severus Snape, Kinda, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Professor Harry Potter, Severus Snape Lives, Slytherin Redemption, Smut, Weird Plot Shit, Work In Progress, believes in redemption, brief mentions of, fenrir greyback - Freeform, gay relationship, harry believes in the best of others, kinda??, not much seen of ron and hermione, not really - Freeform, slowburn, title is my play off of 'the chosen one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 02:46:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_the_blue_raspblue1/pseuds/blue_the_blue_raspblue1
Summary: Harry Potter stays at Hogwarts after the war ends to repair Hogwarts, and finds he has a growing interest in the potions professor turned headmaster.Edit: this has been beta read and edited by the amazing NyxsReincarnation, despite the fact that they've been busy lately, they have gotten to help me with these chapters and the next few ones. I hope you enjoy this edited version a whole lot more, and I hope you enjoy the ones to come because of their incredible help!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my new series, there will be many many parts, because there are 43 pages of this in my google docs. I am real bad at slow burns, but like, this is me trying to get better at them. Feedback is appreciated and well received, bad and a good reviews as well. Thank your for reading?  
> Edit: Thank you so much NyxsReincarnation for beta reading and for editing! I genuinely appreciate your help! Also formatting changes because I realized as I went through the edits the my formatting was kinda trash haha.

       Everyone had been surprised by Harry Potter when the war had ended, Severus Snape included. The boy had stayed at the castle the whole summer with the aurors, the staff, and the construction crew to rebuild the school rather than immediately taking his place as an auror in training as Ron Weasley had. Weirdly enough, he didn't often assist with the things that used a wand to be fixed, he preferred physical labor, lifting stones one by one on the destroyed exterior, letting others in the castle place wards and protection upon the brickwork. Hermione and Ron had returned to do nothing more than set the paintings upon the walls with him. Severus overheard their conversation that day, they had claimed that he had the right to take a break, to let other people do the work instead of him this time. But he had refused, claiming he needed it. Sitting around made him go stir-crazy, a problem only made worse by the war. By consequence, boy had a huge appetite whenever meals were laid out. Severus avoided taking part in them, but on the rare times that he did, the smiles he got from the tanned and toned savior of the wizarding world were blinding. It drove Severus crazy that the boy was so involved in everything, and that all he ever did anymore was smile. Not once did he complain of being overworked or in pain, although several times Minerva came down to the dungeons to request a pain relieving potion for the boy because he had pulled a muscle somewhere, and refused to let anything stop him from working. Severus had to admit, he was rather astonished at the amount of work Potter had done in so little time, especially with the exhausting level of physical labor, but Severus would deny ever thinking that should it come up.

       Even after completing the rebuild of the walls, the spell work the boy did was nearly perfect. It was nothing more than whispers, briefly waving his hand, then moving to the next brick just to repeat the process a thousand times. Figuring the boy was half-arseing it like he did with all his school work, Snape tested several of the bricks, only to find they were heavily laced with spells he shouldn't have learned until auror training. The monotony had to be driving him crazy, Severus told himself, but nothing ever showed that this thought was true; the kid actually seemed to be enjoying it.

       Snape found that Potter never seemed to work around all the others, and on several occasions Severus almost commented snidely on how the James-look-alike must be too good to be around anybody, but all evidence proved the notion wrong. The boy was at every meal, made friendly conversation, was always smiling, and even when he was alone he was humming, or laughing at nothing, and  _ still smiling _ . The last time Severus had seen the boy with any other emotion had been close to a month ago, when the rebuilding truly started. The potions master had found the boy looking distraught in places like the room of requirement, the astronomy tower, and even the dungeons. But even then, the look only lasted for a few minutes before Potter would take a deep breath, place a forlorn smile on his lips and return to his work. Nobody on the staff understood the inner workings of Potter, and how he could move on so easily from the war when he had lost so much, literally died, and then return to a place that should hold memories of remorse and torment. But nothing appeared to bother him. It was like he was glowing, radiating happiness, and his smile lit the room brighter than any chandelier would, almost like nothing could touch him. He was purely an ethereal soul.

       One time in the middle of the night, Severus had heard a voice initially thinking it was a ghost, but he remembered that they had given the ghosts a temporary hold elsewhere until they could rebuild the castle. So the potions master wandered out of the staff washroom, following the voice until he got to the doors of the main entrance hall. He cracked it open to find Potter standing there, singing freely a song Severus had never heard, entangled in the enormous threads of crystals on the shattered chandelier, fixing each tiny piece one by one and stringing them back up. By hand. They both were there for hours into the night, Severus watching, Harry fixing, until the boy pulled out his wand, incanted  _ wingardium leviosa _ , and the chandelier lifted back to the ceiling to its rightful spot, glowing brightly. They both stood there in silence, staring at the light until Severus heard the boy say “goodnight professor,” and walk away. Snape was frozen in place, unable to guess how the boy, whom he had thought to be anything but smart, knew he was there. Needless to say, the professor did not show up for breakfast the next morning.

       It was only a month before the new school year would start. Snape had not shown up for any meals for a few days, as he was stuck in his office with twenty cauldrons all bubbling furiously so he could stock up the medical wing like he did every year. The man had not had time to breath, let alone eat. The man was bottling up every potion he had just finished when he heard a soft pop behind him. He finished filling, labelling and courking the bottle he in his hands, and turned to find an elf from the kitchens standing there with a filled tray in her hands. He dismissed her, saying he didn't have time, and turned back to his work.

        “Master Potter is telling me not to be leaving sir until yous has finished everything on the tray.”

       He stopped and looked back at the elf. She remained resolute, denying his demands for her to leave until he left a stasis spell on the potions and ate begrudgingly. Snape had not realized anyone would mind his absence at the meals; nobody had the audacity to bother him when he was brewing. Then he reminded himself that this was Potter, he did whatever he bloody well pleased, and no one told him otherwise. Severus sneered and handed the tray back, telling her to leave and inform Potter to mind his own loony bin business. However, the trays kept showing up at every meal hour, and the day before Snape finished the batches, he got a note that simply said ‘yes professor’. The potions master immediately lit the piece of paper on fire. 

       And then the brat told on him. The next night, Severus was visited by Mcgonagall, and was lectured well into the night about proper self care and the need for sunlight every now and again. He shook his head once the new headmistress of the school left the room. Potter had done as he said and let him be, but the smug smile cast his way when he walked in the doors of the dining hall let him know that the boy had won this round. 

       The school was finished by about three weeks before the start of term, and the silence in the halls was damn near therapeutic in the mind of Snape. Almost.

And then Potter started showing up at his  _ door _ .

       Severus almost slammed the door when he saw the smiling face of the green eyed boy, but it froze in its tracks, and Snape almost let his shock show when he realized that the boy’s hand was held up to stop it with zero physical contact. 

       “Hello sir, wonderful evening we’re having. Do you mind if I step in for a brief chat?” His voice held no smugness, it was a simple request.

       “No.” And the door shut. 

       This happened several nights in a row, and Severus was starting to lose his will to fight this minuscule tick-like annoyance in the back of his head. On the fourth night he didn't even wait to let Potter ask to come in, he just opened the door, and let him in with a deep sigh of annoyance that seemed to come straight from the center of the ‘fuck off’ part of his personality. Potter came in and politely stood, waiting to be told to sit, and that surprised him. The boy had seemed so confident a moment ago, and now here he was, tapping his foot soundlessly on the stone floors. The boy stared around the room, but the boy’s gaze seemed to linger on the cauldron a few times before he was snapped out of his reverie.

       “Potter, what are you here for?”

       The boy stared at his teacher feeling a sense of dread at asking what he was here for, knowing it would be turned down. “I was wondering if I could borrow the potion journal written by Warren Kinglsey? He has this really interesting theory on the use of Monarch butterfly wings in the memory potions used in Auror interrogations…” The boy slowly fell silent as he saw the arched eyebrow on his potions professors face. He burned a slight red, knowing he was acting out of character… Borrowing a book should not be this hard! He looked back up when a soft thump sounded on the desk in front of him. He saw the book, and felt shocked. 

  
       “Do not damage it, and do not lose it. It was a rather expensive journal to buy, and I would hate to lose it. This should not be too difficult for you to understand even with your lack of a brain. I'm not sure as to why you would want to borrow this anyway, you don't show any interest in potions to begin with.”

       Harry just shrugged and stood, grabbing the journal gingerly. He held it close, and thanked the professor, leaving the room. 

       Harry had seemed to be feeling different recently, incredibly different. And he thought for a while that maybe it was all coming from the grace period after the war ended, but the thing was, that usually ended after a few days. It had for everyone else it seemed, as immediately everyone began stressing to put people in Azkaban, death sentence, or release them with a pardon. Whatever everyone else seemed to be experiencing was not happening to Harry, and then he thought about it one day when he couldn’t sleep, working to fix the massive entry way chandelier. He realized that maybe it was because he no longer had a connection to Voldemort. When the dark lord held a presence in Harry's head, it created a cloud over reality. He felt anger, grudges, resentment, terror, and no real expression of what was in him because he was bloody 17 and had to fight a war. Now he felt good. Every step he took felt like he was walking on a trampoline, he could feel himself floating, the smile never left, and he felt like he could talk to anyone. There were still some people that he would have trouble talking to because of their history like Snape, Malfoy, and a few other people.   
He also noticed his desire to learn things had come back. When he was a child, a firstie, he came to this new school and saw it as an opportunity to become a whole new person, learn new things, and really jump in head first. And then he met a three headed dog named fluffy, a man named Voldemort, a man named Snape, and an item called the philosopher's stone. He had no chance to become or do what he had desperately wanted to because he had a war to fight, but this year he resolved to delve into his studies. This ended up creating a new love for a few things he never thought of as a possible career in his future. There was always DADA, but tacked onto this list now was charms, and potions. As a kid so deeply sucked into the issue of a teacher being overbearingly hard on him like his relatives, he found potions hard to get into, but he read a journal in the paper before the rebuilding began, and fell for it deeply. Ashe didn’t have the knowledge to do what he found so interesting, he read up on everything he could before the school year could officially start. So added onto his already busy schedule of rebuilding, answering daily inquiries from several papers, doing interviews he couldn't avoid, and attending trials for death eaters, he lost even more sleep reading these things. However, this had no effect upon him; on the contrary, he didn't even feel tired anymore. That was another new thing that he was noticing; he had entirely too much energy, and excessive magical power in him since Voldemort died. Whether this meant that Voldemort had been subconsciously repressing Harry’s magical power his whole life or not, Harry did not know, but he realized he had no problem doing things like he did when he was a kid, accidental magic actually. The ministry made the exception for students working on the school, like warding magic, repairing magic, and summoning magic. He found that he could think of something, and raise a hand with a beckoning gesture to find it floating his way. There was also the thing with Snape's door. Harry had been doing pretty well hiding his extra magic, afraid it would mean a lot of trouble for him and wanting to avoid that at all costs, but then the professor had seen it, and Harry immediately released the hold on the door hoping it wouldn't raise too much suspicion. 

       He also noticed that he had no physical fatigue until he got hurt, and the pain was usually only noticeable when it had become excessive. He knew he was killing his body by doing that, but he couldn't handle the power without a release. He used wandless and wordless magic, doing everything by hand, hoping that it would tire him. It served to make his appetite grow, he gained muscle hidden underneath his dark skin, but the energy was still there, so recently, he decided he should start flying or running, and ended up doing both everyday possible. He realized it was only a few weeks until school started and then he could release the energy through healthy magic usage. His wand seemed to buzz in his hand and it nearly made him fearful that he would do something like destroy it, or channel so much magic through it he feared the result of the incantation. He kept this behind his smile, and it worked. While Headmistress Mcgonagall was an incredibly powerful woman, and an incredibly intelligent one as well, she didn't have the sense Dumbledore did when Harry would lie.  
The night of the chandelier incident, Harry realized that he could feel people. Not physically, but almost like he could feel their magic, or their souls. This was something that almost scared him. At first he thought it was instinct, but then he realized that he felt Snape specifically standing there staring; without looking back at him once to be sure, he just knew. 

       At this point, Harry didn't know whether or not to be scared of these new powers, because yesterday morning, he woke up to see his glasses were blurry. He thought nothing of it, assuming the prescription needed renewing, but earlier that morning, he realized he could see without his glasses. At this point, his glasses were only on so it wouldn't raise suspicion, and it gave him migraines.   
       He pushed the thoughts to the back of his head like always, and sat in the newly repaired library, letting the light from the window illuminate the pages that he saw were covered in spidery handwriting. At the front of the book were the letters H.B.P. Written in a near black blue colored ink, much like the one in the potions book he used from the Half Blood Prince. Similarly, the notes in the margins of every page were the same handwriting. Just legible, but enough to know they were half-arsed in their intricacy. Harry smirked at every snide comment made by who he recognized as Snape now, and the chapter with the theory Harry was interested in was absolutely covered in notes, pointing out flaws in the judgement, errors in uses, better ways they could have been used, what could have been substituted for what, and even commentary on what he thought of the authors thinking whether or not he actually agreed. Harry had an almost permanent smile playing on his lips at everything as he finished the whole journal. He closed the book, and stood once he had finished, realizing it was growing dark outside. He walked out, smiling at every teacher and the rare student he passed.   
A few people, all of them students, had been sentenced to help with rebuilding efforts to repay their role in supporting the dark lord. Harry made it very clear that while they played a part, they were still young and deserved a second chance to prove themselves; they should not be put in Azkaban. Harry only did this for a few, all of whom were Slytherins: Pansy, Draco, Blaise, Theo, Astoria, and several others. Harry was saddened to think about whether or not sentencing Lucius to Azkaban was a good idea compared to house arrest like Narcissa, but in the end, not even he could get Narcissa off as innocent. Lucius was a hard one to sentence, because while he did regret it in the end, he had played a large part in the dark lord’s ability to gain power over the ministry. Harry worried that he would never be able to make amends with Draco because of this, even if Harry did get him off as innocent with no more than helping with rebuilding as a reparation. Harry shook this train of thought off as he came to the door of the potions room where his teacher would undoubtedly be. He knocked, and waited. And waited. And waited. Until he heard a quiet, “come in.” He walked in to find the teacher writing something down as he stirred counterclockwise slowly. It was bright yellow like a street sign in the muggle world. He stood there and watched silently, assessing the ingredient curiously. The man was heavily engaged in his writing, and Harry watched diligently and silently, noticing he was making a potion he did not recognize at all. He put down the quill, and grabbed a teaspoon of what looked like minced lace wings. The potion suddenly released a puff of glittering dust, turning a very nasty, pus colored, slime textured paste. Harry looked at it curiously. The man shed his cloak, and rolled up his sleeves, writing the outcome in a highly detailed account. Harry looked the man over and realized why he had suddenly started wearing neck-high cloaks and shirts. The jagged pink scarring covering his throat was harsh in contrast with his pale skin. Harry saw that the dark mark on the man's arm was completely gone, something that had occurred when the dark lord had died completely. Harry looked at the eyes of the professor, and saw them glittering with excitement, but was heavily schooled on the rest of his face.

       Harry couldn't take his eyes off the man.

       “Thank you, Minerva, for being patient with me-” the potions master looked up, and his face immediately dropped. “Oh. Have you come to report that my book has mysteriously been destroyed by Mount St. Helens?” Harry snorted, and shook his head, setting the book on a safe portion of the table. “Did you grow bored like I imagine you did?” 

       Harry looked back down and he shrunk into himself. “I actually finished it sir. And I wanted to discuss it with you. Some of your thoughts were good, but I have a few contending thoughts.” Harry’s voice grew quieter as he spoke, watching the man grow even more irritated, especially when he said ‘contending thoughts’. “I'll let myself out sir.” He backed from the table shyly, disappointment settling in his chest at the inability to have a conversation about the potions mentioned with someone willing to speak of them. He shut the door behind himself, and wandered to his bedroom provided by the staff for the summer, wishing he could have at least asked what it was he was making before leaving in silence.   
       He picked up the letters his new owl, Hooters, had left on his desk. He tapped a floating ball with his fingertip and it emanated light over the table top. He took off his glasses, and tore open the first letter from The Niffler, a new paper created after the war. They were asking for him to write his reply to questions they had for him, and like always, they were practically the same as every other one. In his reply, he wrote what he always wrote. While it was all completely true, and completely in good faith, he wrote the same reply word for word for nearly every interview he got via mail. He wrote something, but it was written to be purposefully boring. It made the paper lose interest quickly, he had learned, and they stopped writing about him very quickly. It made his life easier. He did the same for the rest of the interviews, and when he got to the bottom of the pile he found a package from Mrs Weasley, no doubt another box of homemade treacle tart. He opened it, and replied lovingly to the letters included from her, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. He took a bite of his treacle and sealed his parchments. He put them together and gave them to Hooters, giving her a treat before she nipped at his fingers sweetly and flew off. He picked up his most recent book from his mail purchase, a book of advanced charms. It wasn't a cheap book, but it had been a relatively world renowned book, so he wanted to give it a try. He read the first few pages, getting bored quickly of the droning. It was practically the same thing as the other books piled under his desk, so he closed it, and left the room after noxing the light. He wandered the halls, wishing there was something left for him to do with his hands. The only thing left was supposed to be Filches job: restoring paintings. He looked at the slightly worn tapestries, and after asking politely of the subject of the image if he could touch the painting, he gently touched the canvas, pulled out his wand, and gently re-wove the fraying edges with careful mending spells, paying close attention to the pattern, making sure the color didn’t get damaged. He carefully reversed the color back to as close as he could get it to the original. He looked at it and smiled. It was vibrant, and the knight standing proudly thanked Harry. He nodded, and moved to the next painting to repeat the process, until he felt a soft tingling presence from behind him once more.

       “Hello professor Snape,” he spoke softly, trying not to wake the other paintings, but not losing his focus. It was silent for a moment.

       “Potter, what were those infernal yellow papers that littered my book that were not there when I lent it to you.” The man was quiet, and Harry didn't turn as he explained.

       “Those were a muggle invention called ‘post-it notes’. They have a temporary glue so you can take them off without damaging the paper. I figured you wouldn't appreciate it if I wrote notes of my own in your personal possession. Some part of me knew you wouldn't listen when I asked if we could discuss, especially since I disagree with you - a master of potions. I also figured you wouldn't trust me when I said I don't destroy my things, let alone other people's things, so I put them there, knowing you would look through the book for damage, and see them. It was the only way to get my thoughts across, accepted or not, so I did that.” By the time he finished speaking, he’d moved to the next painting. This one had sustained severe damage, so Harry took it down carefully, and turned around. The man, he knew, was right behind him, so he looked straight into the near-black eyes of the professor, and the man's eyes widened ever so slightly, his breath hitching. Harry realized then why.

       “Potter, where are your glasses.” 

       Harry looked away, and shrugged slightly, and sat down to begin weaving the rip down the middle back together seamlessly. 

       “Lost them.” It was a hopeless lie, he knew that, but it was better than saying ‘I performed a sight-correcting spell’ for several reasons :1) He didn’t know how to do that, 2) he was also not a medic so it would be illegal to perform such a spell, and 3) he would be forced to go to Madam Pomfrey, who would find out about his predicament of his magic core’s growth.

       “So, even though you are legally blind, you are making an attempt to fix the home of a subject of a painting? And you are doing it successfully without a single hitch? Did it also not occur to you that you could also perform an accio to find them?” 

       Harry stilled his movements only briefly in stunned silence, hoping the man wasn't catching on, but knowing the man saw the cease in movement, no matter how little it was. Harry shrugged, and continued to weave, making a show of squinting and getting closer to the painting as though he was having a hard time seeing. Harry just wanted the conversation to end, feeling tense. He squashed the feeling down, and thought of the sound of a gentle rolling boil in potions, thought of the ocean by Bill and Fleur's house, thought of the wind while on a broom, and he calmed down, a small smile gracing his lips. 

       “What are you smiling at, Potter?” 

       Harry figured now would be as good a time as ever to change the subject.

       “Just wondering if you ever sleep sir. You look dead on your feet.” The man sighed and to Harry’s amazement, he sat beside the boy. 

       “With all the potions needed for the medical wing here, I practically am. I'm surprised you aren't, with the physical labor of building this school brick by brick and using your magic so intricately all the time on tedious things like hand repairing a bloody chandelier.” 

       Harry snorted in surprise. He hadn't expected the teacher to actually respond to the quip, or to fall for the subject change. Nor had he expected the man to make a joke of his own toward Harry, especially with it being in good faith that it wouldn't be taken as an insult. “Honestly, if I’m to be serious, I like the idea of my work being put into it, and the thought that well after I am gone, every brick I lay will be there for millennia after. It sounds weird I know, but it means something to me, and I don’t know how to justify it other than that.” Severus went quiet, nodding, watching the boy fix the painting before he spoke.

       “Why do you do that?” 

       Harry stopped short, wondering what he did “Do what sir?” 

       “Fix things by hand rather than magic.” 

        “I suppose it allows me to think. I have a lot on my mind, and because I was raised muggle it feels more natural to do it by hand. With monotony, I don't actually have to think about what I'm doing. It lets me compartmentalize my thoughts and rethink answers for interviews and stuff.” 

       “You're still getting letters from papers and requests for interviews this long after the war?” The man asked, a hint of distaste coloring his voice.

       Harry sneered at the thought of the letters. “I got 17 of them today alone, 6 an hour ago, the rest this morning. I bloody hate them! The Daily Prophets ‘wonderful Miss Rita Skeeter’ has so many questions for me about being an auror, and the six kids I apparently have with Ginny Weasley, whom I divorced a month ago to everyone’s absolute horror.” Harry spoke with a slight side of salt to his voice as he recalled every letter he got about the false rumors of his personal life. He hadn't been with Ginny in nearly two years; in fact, she was with Luna now. And he was also still a virgin. “She also has the balls to call me Harold, which isn't my real name, as she asks me which position I favor during ‘sexy times’.” Harry spat out that last piece without meaning to, turning a maroon as he got shushed by sleeping paintings, and realized he was still talking to a professor. He turned back to the painting, hoping he wouldn't hear anything about it. But then he heard something he wouldn't thought about hearing in his life. The man next to him actually laughed, not a scoff or a snort, a laugh. 

       “Oh bloody hell. So how are your six kids, Potter? I'm assuming already flying around in their cribs?” 

       Harry was completely stunned at the joke, but played along. “They’re naturals, I say they get it from me, but Ginerva claims it's all from her. That was the reason we filed for the tragic divorce.” They both laughed for a short time, and fell silent, the only sound being the soft clicking of stitches getting pulled taut back into place. It was an uncomfortable silence as they both realized they had talked with each other as if they were best mates for the past 11 or so years, not a professor and student that despised each other. The banter had felt as natural as breathing, but now they were bolt straight, realizing that they were supposed to hate each other. Harry put the last stitch together, working quickly to put the colors back to normal and cast a preserving charm on it before hanging it back up. 

       “I'd better get-”

       “I’d best take my lea-” they interrupted each other, stumbling over their words with stutters, awkwardness, and no eye contact. 

       “I um…” 

       “Yeah…” 

       “See you in the morning professor.” 

       “You too Potter.” 

       And with that they both gratefully scurried away from each other in opposite directions, Harry mortifyingly missing a step on his way up and stumbling quickly out of sight to cover his bright red face that was a real show of his embarrassment. He pulled himself together and walked stiffly and rather quickly back to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door manually. Locking spells were not allowed on dorm doors so he settled for just the lock. He fell into his bed face first, groaning out of mortification as he rethought the situation and put himself in Snape's shoes, who probably now thought Potter was a complete dolt. He pulled the blanket over his head, stripped to his boxers, and hoped the morning would not be too awkward between them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is sexual content at the beginning, just be forewarned. if there are any errors I would love to have them pointed out. Feedback and reviews are very welcomed. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Edit: This chapter was been edited, and hopefully is better. Big thank you to NyxsReincarnation for reading and editing, you're amazing! Enjoy the newly edited chapter!

       The man moaned lewdly underneath me as I stuck my tongue into his sensitive hole and  attached my lips to create a suction.

       “Please...more,” he pleaded. 

       I backed away and slipped further down, kissing and licking his perineum, sucking one of his balls into my mouth, gently pushing a finger into the man's tight hole. A loud moan left his mouth, and I worked my finger gently, curling it into the man's prostate. His body shuddered as he came hard into the hand working his cock, milking him for everything he had. I flipped the man over, and the sight made me gasp.  
Harry woke up to the light of the early morning streaming through the window by his bed, and realized with a sense of conflict that he had just had the sexiest dream in his whole life, and it was about his goddamn professor. Worse, was that he was achingly hard, dripping actually if the wet spot on his boxers proved anything. He stared at it with horror.

       “What the actual fuck…” Harry had faced a dark lord, watched several of his closest friends and family die, had actually died and come back, and yet he found he would rather that over this. He had no clue how to deal with this. Even after that thought, he was still throbbing. He got up awkwardly, and decided to ignore it, hoping that if his shower was cold enough it would knock down his problem just a peg. 

       Unfortunately, the taps didn't have a control for temperature. The room steamed, and the water rolling down his body didn't help. He gave in and wrapped a hand around himself, biting back a hiss. He pulled on his cock slowly, squeezing from base to tip, running a finger over his slit. He kept at an agonizing pace as impending doom built up. He reached down to fondle his balls, and found that with horror, his mind was giving him images of Snape moaning, screaming Harry’s name, coming hard all over himself. Harry whimpered, made one last stroke, and came harder than he had in awhile in no more than 30 seconds. He blamed being busy for the past 5-ish years for his timing.  
He panted in the steam filled room, and let his heart rate fall slowly as he softened. He stepped back under the stream of hot water, and scrubbed at his hair and every inch of his body, his mind warring with the happenstances of 40 seconds ago, 10 minutes ago, and the night before. What the hell was happening to him? He tried to push the thought away, but he found every inch of his mind was alight with some sort of information surrounding the man.  
       He hung his head under the spray, trying to ignore his own head for ten seconds, and came to the conclusion it just simply couldn't happen. He shut the water off, and stumbled out of the shower. He put on his nondescript robes, his shoes, and even though he spent the next ten minutes trying to fix his hair, it kept standing up in every direction. So many people told him it was a defining and endearing trait of his, but he disagreed; he thought it was annoying and wished he could wrangle it into a semblance of neat. He sighed as he put on his glasses. The world around him blurred, a migraine already building behind his eyes. He was going to have to tell the staff he was ordering contacts. He couldn't handle this migraine, but he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't from the glasses alone.  
       He left the room, trying to make himself smaller and keep his face passive, but everyone noticed. Everyone. By the time he sat down at the table, he had been asked by every student what was up, and half the staff members had stopped him to tell him things would be ok, and that he could talk to them any time he needed. Breakfast was no different as everyone stared at him the whole time. He stayed quiet and kept his eyes on his plate as he tried to sort through his problem. Funny thing is, his _problem_ was the only one that was actually ignoring him at the moment. He snorted at the irony, and the table seemed to release a breath as if relieved by the sign of normalcy in the teenager. No one seemed to notice the pensive mood Snape had been in, his silence was weird. It felt somber, kind of like Harry's, and he wondered briefly if Snape had the same problem as he did this morning, only to lock it in a cage into the farthest recesses of his mind. He finished his breakfast, knowing it was only half of what he usually ate now, and excused himself with a soft smile. He returned to the monotony of his painting restoring, but he felt restless, incredibly restless. He knew it was a bad sign, especially when he passed by a pair of large windows and heard them rattle in their frames. He quickly left the castle, deciding it would be best if his destructive tendencies didn't affect the school. He walked out to the pitch and stared at the track ringing it. It didn't take a genius to decide what was best for that moment. He bolted, lapping the track tens of times his cloak fluttering behind him wildly. He was unaware of the eyes worriedly watching him run.  
       Harry realized it wasn't helping when he became physically exhausted, but his core was flaring wildly inside of him and he couldn't contain it. He ran off the track and ran around the stands, and in an aimless line around the massive castle, barely dodging the large branch of the whomping willow he had managed to forget was there. He was hoping that he could make it to the shrieking shack, the last place he hoped anyone would look. He entered the secret tunnel, just barely dodging another tree branch. He ran down the path, eventually reaching its end to find himself in the worn-down nearly destroyed building. He stopped and allowed himself to catch his breath, soon realizing his breathlessness wasn't exercise-related. He paced, paced for forever until the sun’s position in the sky changed. He was shaking and couldn't coax himself to stop; his tactics to make himself slow and think and control weren’t working. Was there not a place he could release this energy without destroying something? He pulled at his hair, and pushed himself into the corner like a child told to put his nose to the wall.

       “Potter, what are you doing out here? I don't know what is going on, but you need to handle it, need to keep it under control. This is ridiculous even for you.” 

       Harry whipped around to find Snape staring at him with a hard glare. Harry shriveled, pressing his back further into the corner. He wasn't crying, he wasn't scared, but he indeed was on the verge of a panic attack, and he didn't have a chance to contain it if Snape was going to reprimand him. He slid down the wall, pulled his hair, and balled up as the feeling of an impending explosion grew.

       “Potter, look at me. you need to relax, need to breathe, I don't know what this is, but you need to breathe you stubborn child.” His voice was shaking and serious, but it held an edge of uncertainty which grew as he watched the shadows around the teenager warp. He realized the shadows were moving because Potter was glowing. A bubble the size of an armchair suddenly showed up around Potter, the glowing around him grew intense, and Snape realized what was happening. He cast shield upon shield on the house and himself just in time, as the explosion of power from the boy was enormous. Snape remembered hearing the boy scream before it happened. A wave of pure power, the likes of which Severus had never felt in his life, made the house shake violently on its foundation, and it felt like a shock wave passed through Severus at its highest intensity and violently threw him backwards. He must have blacked out from the sheer force, but when he came to, he remembered what had happened,= and hurried to the boy. He was shaking in the corner, Snape realized it was from sobbing. The boy had his eyes pressed into the palms of his hands, rocking back and forth.

       “Potter, look at me right now! ” He was relieved when the boy did as he instructed, he gasped when he realized the boy’s tears were laced with blood.

       “It hurts, everything hurts, please help,” The boy whispered frantically, clinging to Snape’s hands as they wiped the excess blood from his cheeks even as more dripped out. Once Severus came to his senses, he stopped wiping the boy’s cheeks and grabbed the now limp teenager, quickly carrying him to the castle. He sent a patronus ahead of him to warn the mediwitch to be ready for their arrival, and continued on his path. No more than two minutes later, Severus was back at the school taking stairs two at a time to get Harry to the infirmary. Severus set him on the bed the woman indicated, and she drew the curtains around them. She made quick work of cleaning the blood from his eyes and removed the destroyed frames from the boy’s face. She spelled his eyes open, and Snape winced as he realized there was glass from the lenses in them, watching the mediwitch carefully remove the small shards. 

       Moments later, the boy started speaking: “What’s happening to me?” he whimpered, staying still at the hands keeping him against the mattress.

       “There was a large amount of glass in them. They'll need time to heal, but I've done all I can as of now. What in the name of Merlin were you thinking, you foolish boy? Your core is shivering!” when she realized he didn't know what that meant, she continued. “When you are a child, your magical energy builds as you grow. It gets exponentially bigger as you age, which explains accidental magic. When you learn how to channel it and do magic, it stops growing at such a high rate, but yours has somehow continued to grow, and your body can't handle it. It's called shivering because it causes tremors almost like a heart murmur, but incredibly lethal. This occurrence nearly killed you, and the fact that you told no one what you were experiencing helped nothing! Have you learned nothing from the war about trusting people to help you? Of all the incredibly foolish, stupid, and arrogant things you have done in your life, this has to be the worst!” 

       Severus stood in shock, watching Poppy yell at the teenager without restraint. The body on the bed started trembling again, and a hand came up to wipe at the now-normal tears falling in torrents down the sobbing boy’s cheeks.

       “I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I didn't know, I'm sorry...” he said in an endless mantra.

       “The only person you should say sorry to is yourself and the professor here; you both could have died.” This only seemed to make the sobbing worse and the mantra resume.

       “Stop with the sniveling, Potter. I'm fine and so is the shrieking shack, which you so nearly destroyed in your temper tantrum,” he said. And with that, Potter was reduced back down to sniffling, as he wiped the tears from his sallow cheeks. Poppy spelled the gauze clean and dry.

       “The best thing you can do now, Potter, is get some sleep.” The boy nodded, still crying. Poppy gave him a dose of what Snape assumed was dreamless sleep, and the teenager fell asleep within the minute. Poppy huffed at having to dry and clean the gauze around his eyes once more, but said nothing of it.  
The woman turned on Severus and pointed at the bed behind him, and he knew there was no arguing with the woman. He sat, took his shoes off and shed his outer cloak before laying down. She gave him potions that he recognized as a sleeping draught, a healing draught and an energy replenishing draught, the same ones she had given the boy, and the same ones Severus had brewed the day previous. Unfortunately, this meant he would have to make more. 

       Snape lay on top of the mattress, thinking about what had just happened and about the boy in the bed on his right. He remembered the night before, when they had spoken amicably for several minutes before falling into a crushing silence. Snape remembered the conversation about the boy’s glasses, conjuring the image of the teen’sbright green eyes. Without his glasses, Potter lost all a lot of the physical similarities to his father besides his hair and nose. He had his mother’s eyes, soft jawline, and smile. Severus couldn't help but think of his best friend when he saw those bright eyes that seemed to hide wonders beyond them, and it took the man's breath away. He knew it was incredibly wrong to think of a student this way, even if he was about to turn eighteen. He was of age, but it was very inappropriate for him to even consider P… Harry in this light. He rolled over so his back was to the boy; there was nothing redeemable about staring at someone while they slept. Nevertheless thoughts and images of the teen haunted him all the way through his potion-induced sleep. 

       When he woke again, it was dark outside, and Harry was sitting up, his hands fiddling with the gauze around his eyes.

       “Potter, what do you believe you are doing?”

       The hands immediately dropped to his lap.

       “They don't hurt anymore sir. I think they are healed.”

       “Just because they don't hurt doesn't mean they are healed, Potter; potions and DADA taught you that.”

       “I do know that sir, but what I mean is I can see the gauze and I can see the candle light through it, they are completely healed.” He proceeded to lift his hands back up to the bandages, tremors still passing through him, and was about to take it off until Severus sat up.

       “Potter, do not be stupid, they are not fully healed, they had shards of glass in them not more than 4 hours ago, leave them there.” Yet the boy kept trying.

       “I don't think I could even if I wanted to, actually. It seems Pomfrey knows me entirely too well; there is a locking spell keeping them in place. I can't even move the fabric.”

       They fell silent for a time, and that whimsical smile was back on Potters lips, the same one that made Severus want to kis- no. Stop it right now. Find a distraction. “Since when do you have an interest in potions?”

       Harry released a deep sigh. “Do you want the quick answer, or what I think?” It went silent, and Harry feared for a second that the man had no actual interest and the conversation would end there.

       “I suppose I'll hear what you think. Madam Pomfrey gave me orders not to leave the bed until morning, but I'm up now, so I might as well use the time until then.”

       Harry smirked. “Yeah, she does that. Well, I think it first really kicked in once the war ended. I read about the journal I borrowed in the daily prophet, and because for once I didn't have to spend my time worrying about getting me and my friends killed, I found this interest, and I've been reading quite a bit. For once I actually feel like I can enjoy something without having it torn from under me, or ruined by losing it just because I like it. I want to dive in and compensate for what I haven't been able to do the past few years because I was busy with a power-hungry loon.” He fell silent and waited for the response, but five minutes later there was no response, “sorry, got a little bit off track there.” The professor was still silent, making Harry wonder if he was even still there. “Sir?”

       “You're so much like her, it's disconcerting.”

       “S-sir? Who are you talking about?” Harry's heart stopped in his chest. The her?

       “Your mother. She was always so willing to become a part of something, throw her whole life into something until she perfected it or made it even more beautiful than before. You have a lot of enthusiasm to learn the art of potions, it's hard not to think of her.”

       Harry's breath hitched in his chest, trying to hold back a choke. He had to ask, even if he got a no. “Sir… Can you tell me about my mother please?”

       “You've lived with her sister nearly your whole life, surely you have heard everything about Lily?”

       “If it gives you any idea of everything my relatives told me about my mother, for the first eleven years of my life they told me she had died in a car crash when my parents were drunk.” His head was hanging as if he were looking at his twisting hands, and he heard a soft breath, whether it was a sigh or a gasp, he didn't know.

       “I don't know why I'm telling you this, but she was my best and only friend in school. She meant the world to me. When she was younger, her hair would catch the light, and She would look as if she were on fire. Her eyes were just like yours, and I'm sure that if your hair was the same length as hers, it would be wavy as well. She only had kind things to say, she never took anything or anybody for granted, and her smile and letters got me through a lot of things in my life. She was the literal expression of the word dainty, but when you got her angry, she could hold a grudge, and she would get you back for it 10 times as bad. Excuse my language, but I believe the muggle expression is ‘badass’.” Harry snickered at this, wishing he could see the man's face as he reminisced.

       It was quiet for a bit, and when he spoke again his tone was somber. “She was so forgiving… She even forgave me. I called her a fowl, rotten slur one day when I was particularly vulnerable, and she didn't talk to me for a year. One day we started talking again, when I swallowed my damaged pride and apologized to her, though we were never the same as we had been before that.” Harry recalled the memory he had seen in the pensieve and realized that was the time he was talking about “I loved her like a sister, so losing her friendship was devastating. She married Potter, invited me to the wedding, and unfortunately I got smeared with a handful of cake.” Harry chuckled softly, and listened to the man take a deep breath that made Harry hurt for him. “She had me walk her down the aisle because her father had passed away, and she looked like a queen in her dress. It was lacey with small pearls, and the veil was simply captivating. I think that was one of the first days I let people see me so…” emotional, Harry thought, shaking as he envisioned this.   
       “Then she had you, and the smile on her face was so purely happy, happier than I had ever seen her in my life. It honestly terrified me when I learned your family had to go into hiding. I begged everybody I knew, pulled every string I had to protect you three, even James with our old rivalry, because her safety meant everything to me. The day I found out she had been betrayed and killed, a piece of me died. So if you can imagine my distress upon seeing her eyes on someone that was not her when you arrived here, with the knowledge that you were her child… The only way I learned to cope was to be vicious. That excuses none of my unjust behavior, I know this, but it was all I knew at the time. She was one of the brightest spots in my life and she is not someone I will likely forget until my death. I know this because the last time I almost died, one of my last thoughts were of her. She will always be there.” 

       Harry tried to hold back his tears, but they fell freely, staining the material again.He took a deep, shaky breath before he spoke. “When I died during the war, I had the resurrection stone with me, and when I opened my eyes, they were there. Everyone: lupin, Sirius, my mom and dad. They promised me they would be with me the whole way , that they would be waiting for me when I came to them. Then I dropped the stone, and they were gone. When I died, I almost chose not to come back; the offer was almost too sweet. I mean, they were waiting for me there, they still are and-” he tried not to let the sob wrack his body, but he hadn't heard anything of what Snape had told him before in his life, and talking about this was something else. He hadn't even told Hermione and Ron about this; it was too close to the center of his heart. Why he felt compelled to tell this man beside him was beyond Harry's comprehension. He tried to silence himself with a few deep breaths and rubbed the tears away, but his efforts were in vain. So he tried to lighten the mood a little.

       “I remember one time when I was about 15, sometime when I was completely underage, Sirius let me have firewhiskey for the first time ever. It was absolutely awful, and I question the ethics behind it even now, but his reaction when I gagged and shot it through my nose was one I won't forget. He laughed at just the thought for weeks. It burned so badly, and the stuff was everywhere: all over the cabinets, the floors, him, me, the stove, Kreacher, everywhere.” He heard soft chuckling and smiled softly.

       “What a lightweight. Lily could take 5 shots before she felt a thing. You really are like your father.” 

       Harry ignored the slight and laughed. “In my defense, the stuff tastes like someone put ground cinnamon in hand sanitizer. It's terrible.” He snickered even more at that.

       “I'll give you that, it isn't as good as Ogdens, but it gets the job done.”

       “I don't suppose I'll be much of a drinker in my life.”

       “That doesn’t surprise me, and it's not a bad thing. I remember the first time I failed a potion in my life, and observing the memory now, I realize I put the salamander eggs in a few moments too soon, a rookie mistake,” Harry laugh softly at the dorky addition to the memory, it made his heart smile somehow. “But Lily and I were completely covered in an undiluted version of amortentia. We had to be locked in separate supervised rooms so we didn't do anything dumb thing like jump out a window to snog each other half to death. We weren't in love, just under the effects of the potion, and when it finally wore off, we laughed harder than we had before; I remember actually getting stitches it lasted for so long. Fortunately, the potion was made forbidden to teach until the final years of students’ education, until they’re experienced enough to make such a delicate potion. When we were no longer under the effects of it, we were practically sealed as best friends.” They both laughed quietly so as to not catch the attention of the strict witch in charge of the wing. Harry's tears had stopped, and his smile, though still soft, was there for sure.   
       Severus had sat up while the boy was telling his story of the war. He paid close attention, trying to keep his tone in check though he felt his heart hurt as he spoke to her son nonetheless. His deepest urge was to wipe the tears from Potter’s cheeks, but he held himself back. He had no clue how they had gotten so personal so quickly, nor why it was happening between two people that had nearly been enemies for seven years. A small part of Severus knew what was happening, and that tiny part was screaming the answer he refused to acknowledge, so he shoved it out of his head entirely. This couldn't happen, it really couldn't, and he was determined to say no. They talked late into the night, until well after the sun had come up and the mediwitch had walked in to see them both awake.

       After a swift and painful lecture to both of them about how sleep is vital to healing. She proceeded to give Ha- Potter. He is Potter - a dose of sleeping potion to further heal his eyes. She removed the gauze, tsking at its stiffness from his dried tears. She gave Severus clearance to leave, so he did, immediately striding as fast as possible down to the dungeons; he didn’t want anyone see his bed head.  
He showered quickly, changed into another identical black turtleneck, and headed down to the great hall to get a large breakfast. He felt stiff like he had been hit by a train. He supposed this was inevitable since he had been hit by a wave of pure magic at such close range. He realized he was going to need to make more potions for the infirmary after last night’s incident, and to fill in for the plethora of the ones used by the summer residents that got injured, had nightmares, or got sick. So he went all the way back down the stairs, set out several cauldrons and started the bases of the three potions and the cream he needed to make. He lost track of time, and was in the middle of a seriously important part of one of his more volatile potions when a knock came to the door. He counted methodically, dropping the ingredients in, constantly stirring, and nodded to himself. Letting that simmer, he took the stasis spell off of the other one, and called distractedly for the person at the door to come in. The footsteps were quiet, and the person came into his view. It was Potter. He was holding a large stack of what looked like envelopes in the potion master's peripheral vision.

       “And what would those be, Mr Potter?” He dropped in the finely minced basil, turning from purple to opalescent.

       “These are all the letters I missed over the past day, every single one of them from a different post or newspaper. It's driving me insane! they just don't stop, do they? How have you not gotten any of this?” 

       Snape smirked at the annoyed Potter. “It seems you're hogging all the limelight. If you could share, I'm sure the other celebrities of the world would enjoy it back.” He heard a snicker as he continued counting to the 30th stir. He dropped the dragon scales in slowly so the potion didn't splash.

       “Have at it, I have had enough of it for an entire lifetime. In fact,” Potter went over to the fireplace and waved a hand over it, setting it ablaze. Severus watched as he tossed the letters into the flames to burn brilliantly.

       “Any reason this had to be done in my fireplace and not yours?”

       Harry just shrugged “Just wanted to show how much of this I get on a normal day.”

       “A normal day? Do I want to know how many letters you've gotten from them when it isn't a normal day?”

       “I've gotten up to fifty a day for an entire week before, not including things from friends and family.” Severus scoffed at this. “I suppose it's karma for asking to be written to more often as a child.”

       “Karma is an imbecile’s way of seeing the world, it's just another name for cause and effect. You are getting the letters based off happenstances in your life, not because you asked for them.”

       He watched the boy’s shoulders jolt softly with laughter. “Whatever you say sir.” They fell silent, and the head of wild hair wandered over to the cauldron he was working on.

       “How are your eyes Potter? I hope they aren't permanently damaged?” He finally looked up into the boy’s eyes and had to snap his jaw closed with an audible click at the beautiful intensity of the green staring right at him. He looked back down.

       “They're doing fine; no blurriness, no pain, nothing. Madame Pompfrey assumes that the speed of the healing has to do with my magic’s abnormally fast regeneration rate.” 

       Snape’s hand froze momentarily, and he sighed. It was bound to come up some time.   
       “I know you've been lectured, and you've been asked 97 different ways from yesterday, but what the hell happened? How could you have not told anyone what was going on? I sound like a broken record, but you need to start trusting people with things, because one day, it will turn around to bite you in the arse, and no one will know how to help you.”   
       “I know that, sir. Old habits die hard, I suppose is the phrase.”

       Sensing some sensitive undertones, Severus dug a little. “ ‘Old habits die hard’ is generally not used in the context of something bothering you enough to cause a magical outburst that strong.” He made eye contact and gave him a meaningful look.

       Harry looked away from the stare, knowing that he needed to think before he just spilled everything freely. So instead he chose to deflect from the issue, knowing it would come back later. Severus noticed but didn't push.

       “I wish I could help you with those potions, but I have no clue what the hell I’m doing.”

       “Well, if you'd like to make yourself useful, you can do ingredient preparation.” Harry practically ran to the table to do so, eager to do something with his hands. “Crush these beetles, and then cut them finely into ⅛ inch slivers.” He got started, trying to be efficient. Once he was finished Snape inspected the work. “Not bad. They were cut at an angle, but because they have consistent shape that shouldn't affect the potion, not too shabby Potter.” He could practically feel the boy beam at the praise. This process of Harry doing the prep and Snape making it went on for a few hours. While Snape made the potions, neither of them realized they had missed dinner until his clock chimed to show it was nearing 10.

       “Go to bed you pest, and I would recommend that before you go to bed to meditate. Clear your mind, and don't stay up too late.”

       “The same goes for you sir, don't stay up too late on these potions. Actually, I almost forgot. Dobby!” A soft pop and the elf was beside him. He crouched by the elf and told him something Snape couldn't hear, but he assumed it was more of his shenanigans as usual. He waved to the professor as the elf disappeared, and left with a quiet goodnight. The elf came back this time with a tray of food like before and stood there until he took it and ate it all. He finished up the ointment, putting it into containers and washed up thoroughly before leaving the potions to simmer overnight.The next morning held Snape following the boy around as he continued to fix paintings; Snape even fixed a few himself. They talked amicably about the coming school year and whether or not they were ready for it. Harry's letter had come that morning, and he had plans to go with the Weasleys to diagon alley to get the things he required. Harry was excited, he hadn't seen them for a very long time, and while he loved his time at the school to read and be with Snape (when that became a pass time he had no clue), he couldn't wait to pay a visit to George, and hug Mrs Weasley; she had offered him a room at the Burrow numerous times, but he wanted to help with the school, so he turned the offers down. She and George were among the few that understood why he didn't want to stop working even throughout the summer. He loved them for that. Mrs Weasley caught him in a bone cracking hug that he returned gently. 

       “Hello Mrs Weasley, good to see you.” He looked behind her to find Arthur, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. “Hey guys how are you?”

       “Harry, why aren't you wearing your glasses?” Of course Hermione would be able to pick up on something like that as soon as she saw him. He went to touch them, and realized that he hadn’t told them what had happened to him a day ago, so he told them the partial truth. 

       I kind of obliterated them into non-existence when I had a bout of anger.”  She obviously didn't believe him, and Ginny actually snorted.

       “You must think we're really daft to fall for that you dimwit. What actually happened?”

       “I’m telling the truth, I literally destroyed them, like, irreparably destroyed them. I even tried to get Snape to fix them, but it wasn’t possible.” They seemed to accept this as the truth, but they still eyed him warily.

       “How has the castle been since we last saw you?” Ron asked, noticing his slowly tensing shoulders, and the green eyed boy was grateful for the excuse to move on.

       “It’s been really good, everything is repaired, unfortunately, they sealed off the room of requirement, the chamber of secrets, and every single secret passage. Every one of them is gone,” He made sure that Mrs Weasley was out of earshot when he whispered “But the one by the whomping willow is still intact, the aurors couldn’t find the pressure spot to freeze the tree.” He, Ron, and Ginny smirked deviously, and Hermione just sighed.

       “We are not doing that this year, we just aren’t, do you understand me you three? We have spent the last 6 years sneaking around and getting in trouble, I expect you to behave this year. No shenanigans.” Her voice made it clear that there was no room for argument, that they didn’t have any choice but to nod in reluctant agreement. They soon forgot the slight tension that hung in the air, and they had a lovely day. Harry needed to get new robes, he was no longer a scrawny stretched out elf. He had gained muscle, put on weight, and because of the sudden nutrient boost from the summer, he had shot up at least an inch and a half. He got fitted quickly, and they left to get the books they needed that year. The new defence teacher was going to be someone actually experienced, and they had a genuine background check and veritaserum test before being hired. They had yet to hear the name, but based off of the level of spells, Harry felt this year was going to be a piece of cake and he wasn’t going to be tortured or almost killed again. Once the others had gone on, he returned for the books he had noticed while walking around, paid for them silently, and left the shop.

       They got the required potion ingredients and equipment, looked at quidditch supplies, and they had to physically drag Ron away from the store because he almost bought a 200 galleon broom. They stopped at the sweets shop to stock up, getting plenty of things like sugar quills, chocolate frogs, pumpkin pastilles, cauldron cakes, licorice wands, regular chocolates - you name it, they got it. It was enough to last them several months. Harry found it interesting though that they had suddenly included some muggle treats, one of them being suckers. Harry bought a large bag for his personal stash. All of which were random flavors - good flavors unlike Bertie Bott’s every flavor beans - so whenever he chose a nondescript sucker, he didn’t have to worry about a gross flavor.

       By the time they had stopped for lunch, Harry found his energy was sapped very quickly, he was tired, and sagging under the weight of his purchases, even yawning. The worst of it though was the shaking that was returning with a vengeance like last night, he could see all of the others silently worrying, but he gave them no other reason to worry, even though he had no control over the returning tremors similar to ones from the Cruciatus curse. He ate his large lunch of 2 sandwiches, a butterbeer, and a side of chips, and noticed his strength coming back slowly.  
       They finished up their shopping by dropping by the shoe store. They needed new shoes for everyday use, their old ones were worn and destroyed from being on the run. With everything they got in tow, the Weasley’s bid Harry a loving goodbye until school got back in, and left him to walk back alone. He was glad they had left when they did, the shaking still hadn’t gone away despite eating, they had gotten even worse. He wandered back up to the castle, happily ignoring the adoring looks of the people he passed. He climbed to the second floor exhausted, and dropped his things off, putting them away neatly. He was excited for his new books, but he decided that sleep was his first priority. He curled under his blanket, and fell asleep promptly.  When he woke up later, he found his stomach to be growling, and someone was knocking at his door. He grabbed his wand off the bedside table and walked to the door, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He found Mcgonagall standing there, and he was ushered down to the great hall for what he could only assume was for dinner. He was happy to be behind the woman, still unable to hide his tremors. They walked through the doors, and he was greeted by delicious smells, and the comforting light from the floating candles. They sat and he ate. Well, he tried to eat, he found that about halfway through the meal, he was nodding off, catching himself a few times before his face fell into the plate. He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped awake to find the slim pale fingers of the potions master. 

       “Potter, come with me, I think you are in need of your next round of potions.”

       He nodded and stood to follow the man, bidding the others a customary goodnight. He found himself in the dungeons minutes later, taking a potion to combat the shaking, and another one that put him straight to sleep. He crashed on the man’s couch, hoping he didn’t get in trouble for doing so when he woke up in the morning. He could have sworn the last thing he heard was a soft goodnight Potter but he was extremely tired, so there was no way he remembered that right.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy guys, sorry it took a bit of time to post this new chapter, I'm trying to edit and write new stuff so I don't run out of content as I post, so thank you for bearing with me. Thank you so so much for your kind comments! I see them everyday when they come in, and it has become one of the best things in my life especially since work just sucks. so. much. and college is coming up, so I have to figure that out. I seriously do adore seeing your comments, so thank you very much. Comments are appreciated, good and bad. Feedback is also very much appreciated, and so is review. Thank you and enjoy the chapter!  
> Edit: big thank you to NyxsReincarnation for beta reading this chapter, I have changed Snape and Harry's interactions in hopes that it will actually achieve slowburn status thanks to her help, so again, thanks a ton! Note, because the story is being changed a bit chapter by chapter, things may not be what you remembered, but I will try to keep it similar to the original, but with slower time in their relationship development. Enjoy the chapter!

       Harry woke up the next morning with a crick in his neck, but he was otherwise warm and comfortable. He caught the scent of a brewing potion that was vaguely recognizable through his morning haziness. He sat up slowly, noticing his shaking had pretty much disappeared and he felt extremely well rested. Harry saw the potions master with his back toward him. Snape was dressed in slacks and a white shirt underneath a vest that would usually go under a dress robe, but it looked informally gorgeous on the thin man. Harry stood up silently, folded the blanket he knew he hadn’t fallen asleep with, and meandered to the man’s side. The potion was neon orange, and he recognized it as the same potion he took to combat the tremors. 

       “Mr Potter. You’re up early.”

       “Am I?” Harry was confused.

       “It’s five AM.” The man sneered lightly, and Harry ignored it.

       “Oh my god, why are you up and functioning like it’s 9 am?”

       “Well, for one, I’m a teacher; I’m used to not getting much sleep as I am constantly buried under essays written by dunderheads who have never put quill to paper.”

       “It wouldn’t be so bad if the essays you assigned were shorter,” Harry retorted.

       Severus glared at him. “How are you feeling this morning? You were practically having a seizure in your sleep.” he snapped in an awkward attempt to move on.

        “Yeah, the trip to Diagon Alley was draining. I realize now it probably wasn't such a good idea to not have a pepper up potion or something just in case that happened, but asking for things is not my forte.”

        “As the staff and I have had the pleasure to realize over the past few years. I do hope you plan on working hard this year to pass your NEWTs; you never were quite able to prove yourself capable in my lessons.”

        ”I’ve signed up for everything it’ll take to be an auror, so I expect it to be a difficult year.”

        “So you're going auror then, are you?” Severus asked with a blank visage. Harry knew it was ridiculous to think that maybe the professor was concerned for his well being, but it was nice to pretend that was true at least sometimes.

        “Yeah, they've practically had a spot open for me the moment I defeated the dark lord. They even offered to take me immediately regardless of my minimal training, which I think is completely idiotic. If this is what they do for every person that defeated someone, then we are all doomed to die in the field. I mean seriously, come on, I killed a man by using expelliarmus of all things, and sheer dumb luck.” Harry fell silent, and looked down at his knotted hands, realizing what he’d just said. “I mean really, I killed a man… I'm not a hero, I'm a murd-” 

       “Don't you dare finish that sentence, Mr. Potter, or I will have you serving detentions before the year even starts. You are not a murderer; you did what you had to do to protect yourself and the others around you.” Severus growled, locking eyes with the boy. Harry must have struck a nerve.

       “I just find that hard to believe somehow-”

       “Then let me tell you that I believe it. You were a child, you never should have been pushed into a war in the first place. Stop making yourself believe that you killed a man. Voldemort was just the remaining  _ fragment _ of a soul in a dead body created by an illegal potion; he was in no way a man.”

       Harry just nodded, refusing to look up as there were too many tears gathering in his water line to allow for it. He stiffened when he felt awkward arms pull him into the man's chest in a small hug, but he slowly relaxed and even wrapped his own arms around the man. He sniffed, trying not to be too loud as to reveal the emotion that was clearly rushing through him. The professor smelled of sagebrush and the potion he was creating. They stayed like that, and didn't let go until he heard Snape sigh and release one hand to banish the burning potion.

       “The potion is ruined.” Severus sighed, annoyed.

       “Then we can attend breakfast like normal people,” Harry quipped with a smile.  
They ate in the hall for a little less than an hour as they conversed with the other professors. Then Severus decided he needed to get back to that potion, and Harry left to take care of his letters, claiming he would be back in a bit.

       Back in his room Harry called for Hooters, and when he arrived Harry attached an order slip to his leg along with enough money to pay for a new writing journal. He turned to  his desk to write out responses to his friends and the press. He felt bad for not answering, and he realized that by not replying sooner, he’d unintentionally confirmed whatever suspicions they had by neither denying nor confirming them. He could only hope that when the prophet came, it didn’t contain anything ridiculous.   
It did. Apparently not answering them meant he had given them the go ahead to write whatever the hell they wanted about him. The day before school started, he was sitting at breakfast with Mcgonagall, laughing and joking when the prophet came in along with 30 post owls. They opened their _Daily Prophet_ and fell silent, looking up at Harry. When Harry saw the title, he sputtered and turned dark red.

      HARRY POTTER AND SEVERUS SNAPE: STAR-CROSSED LOVERS?

       When Harry looked up, everyone immediately looked toward their plates to avoid being seen staring. The doors to the great hall slammed and he looked over to find a furious Severus Snape marching in his direction. Harry stood and held his hands up in surrender 

       “Sir…”

       “Potter, what have you done.” He said in an altogether way too calm voice.

       “I didn’t-” 

       “Well, obviously you did! Have you at all realized that because of your celebrity the things you do and say can affect other people’s reputations and lives for the worst if you aren’t careful?”

       “Sir, with all due respect,  I didn’t even reply to the letters that spoke about this! I didn’t even read them!”

       “Well, maybe you should have read them and replied to deny what they said, because now my name is sullied with  _ golden boy _ residue! You are a well known name in the wizarding community. You have to take responsibility for this title, because nothing in your life is ever going to remain private, regardless of whether or not it is true! Next time, make sure it isn’t going to ruin somebody else’s life!” Severus threw the paper into Harry’s chest and strode out of the great hall, leaving in his wake a table of shocked professors and a stunned Harry Potter.

       Harry looked down at the paper in his arms and bit his lip. He looked back up and smiled at everyone, hoping his face wasn’t too shocked like all of theirs. “I think I’m going to go, um… do my summer assignments. I’ll see you all later.” He put the paper on the table and rushed out of the hall, trying not to feel like a thrown out piece of trash. It wasn’t working. He tried to hold himself together, hoping no one would think something odd was actually going on between him and Snape. He went to his room and sat on his bed after locking the door. The rocking had started at some point and he didn’t quite know when his alarm clock had started floating, but when it promptly shattered in the air, Harry broke from his reverie and several more things crashed to the floor including his desk and trunk. He rushed to ensure that nothing broke, only to find that his desk had suffered a splintered leg. He sat next to his desk and stacked books under the broken side of his desk, but the books weren’t the same height as the other leg. The desk tilted, all his quills and papers slid off, and his ink bottle smashed on the floor and god damn it all! He shouted at it briefly then stood up, too frustrated to handle everything going on. 

       He paced the room for some time until his feet were aching. He heard the occasional object break and forced himself to take a breath to pull himself together so he didn’t trash the whole room. Harry went into the bathroom hoping to wash his face and feel calmer. The thought occurred to him to take a shower, and maybe that would help release his stiff, aching shoulders. He got in the shower, ignoring the fact that he still had clothes on, and turned on the water. He wished the stalls had temperature controls, because he would have turned it as hot as it could go to wash his skin free of this gross feeling that he ruined the life of someone he cared about. 

       He was under the water for a very long time, long enough that his legs gave out and he was forced to sit under the spray. He turned it off and remained there for another undetermined length of time. His eyes were burning like he had pulled an all nighter, and he was shivering and shaking like he had the night before. His joints ached from the cold and sitting in the same position for so long. He told himself he needed to suck it up, Severus was a separate human being that didn’t care about Harry, and especially not in the way Harry cared for him. So he put the mask up that he usually carried, especially during the war, and picked himself up.

       He got up and stripped out of his clothes, leaving them to hang dry in the shower. He knew the elves would get them during the night. He dried off with a towel, put on clean pyjamas, and started working on his desk again. He realized that he had several smaller books that would equal out the height, so he put them in a new stack. He fixed everything that had fallen to the ground during his accidental magic incident and picked up the charms book he had neglected reading for the past few weeks in order to force himself to forget his emotional hurricane. He found himself at his desk moments later, taking notes on new charms that he learned and putting sticky notes on the ones that particularly stuck out to him. He decided that this year he was going to come up with a study schedule just like Hermione had made them do the years previous. He knew it was what was going to help him keep up the most and remember his curriculum work the best. 

       The night passed entirely too quickly for Harry, and he soon found that the sun was rising the day that all the students were going to arrive. His tremors were back with a vengeance. He knew he could get the potion by asking Pompfrey, but he needed to start relying upon himself. The fact that he remained holed up in his room the rest of the day until the afternoon meant he hadn’t eaten anything. The night came, and he knew he was going to have to go to the sorting ceremony as it was the first year back after the war. People needed to see him, see that he was doing ok, and he needed to do exactly what Sev- nope, not anymore - Snape told him to do: own up to his new role in life, act like a model citizen and like nothing was going on in the background of his life. If he did act like something was up, like Snape said, it wouldn’t stay secret for long, and he was going to ruin another person’s life all over again.  He got dressed in his Gryffindor robes and waited in the hall to finally meet back up with Hermione and Ron.

       “Hey Harry! How are you doing? With the whole Daily Prophet thing, I mean?” Hermione asked tentatively as if he would blow up.

       “Oh yeah, that whole thing. So what happened was I got really fed up with all the letters and I burned them before looking at them, and I guess they took that as the go ahead to say whatever they pleased in the papers. Me and Snape are not an item, and we never will be. It would never happen, ever.”

       “Glad to see you think that everyone wants to be with you, Potter, and you don’t even have enough boundaries not to create fantasies no one wants to live out besides you. Now get inside, and stop parading your celebrity.” The man spat. Harry had to admit that hurt quite a bit but with his mask up, his voice came out sounding like nothing more than the same annoyed teenager. 

       “Come on,” Harry urged. Hermione seemed to hesitate for the slightest moment and Harry had absolutely no clue why. “Please, I just want to get this night over with. People are already staring at me like I’m Voldemort reborn,” he all but begged as he stalked away from Snape with his friend in tow.

       They sat at the table next to the rest of their friends, and Harry tried not to show his worsened trembling. He raised a spoonful of soup to his mouth, spilled all of it, and opted instead for a roll to soak it up with. His heart was working overtime, and he didn’t have a way to calm it. He blamed it on all the eyes on him, but he knew for a fact that it was his core shiver. But he was fine. He was absolutely not going to ask for anything as long as he was still up and walking, it just wasn’t going to happen. Nothing was wrong, no one knew anything was wrong, so he was just going to keep his stupid mouth shut. 

       Dinner was over in what felt like a bloody century, and when it was done he followed everyone to the common rooms to get the password before he went to his old bedroom. He packed slowly, his shiver forcing him to stop for air every 5 minutes or so. He shrunk everything so he could fit it into his trunk, then he put a featherlight charm on the trunk so he could take it to the boys dorm room and claim a bed for himself.

       When he reached the dorm, he put everything in the provided dresser. He decided tonight he wanted to try out some of the charms he read about, so he grabbed his wand and a very post-it note-filled book. He flipped to a random page and practised the wand movement before incanting, “ _ Tempestate nivis _ .” Clouds began to swirl in the ceiling of the boys dorm, gently filling the space above the beds, and it began to snow. The snow never landed or touched anything, but it fell all around him even though he was warm. He lay back in his bed, and drew the curtains. He stared at the falling snow for at least an hour before he heard people filing into the room. He heard a few ‘woah’s and ‘what the hell’s’ before the spell disappeared completely from his reverse incantation. He hoped they didn’t hear him, and just rolled over in his bed hoping they would think he was asleep.

       “Harry?” damnit.

       “Yeah mate?” He opened the curtain to look at Dean inquisitively

       “You ok?” He asked, sounding almost concerned for whatever Harry was doing.

       Harry gave a small smile to ease Dean’s mind. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m gonna turn in for the night. See you in the morning!” He closed the curtain right as a wave of exhaustion hit him. He knew it wasn’t normal exhaustion, but he didn’t care, so he rolled over and covered himself with his blankets before nodding off. 

       He woke up to Neville shaking him awake, but he couldn't seem to fully wake up. He grabbed the things he would need for the day of classes. He only had transfiguration and Charms, so in his mind it was a relatively easy day. Being in the highest levels, he only had two classes a day, but they were both double blocks so he was there for two and a half hours per class. He was just glad he didn't have potions that morning. He hoped that his teachers didn't notice anything off with him. He kept almost falling asleep during breakfast, but he shook himself awake when Snape walked in. He pushed the rest of his mostly full plate away and pulled out his charms book instead. This was the one for this year, and he wanted to get into it before class started. This, of course, doesn't work when one is almost asleep. 

       When he was woken by Hermione's gentle touch to his shoulder, he gathered his things and wandered away from them because they had different class schedules. He was in his seat 5 minutes early attempting to read the material again while the class filled with students. Today they were covering a desk with an ivy spell, and Professor Flitwick wanted them to customize the spell however they wished to.

       “ _ Clara hedera _ .” He whispered, adding the extra wand swirl to cover his desk completely in shimmering ivy. He waved his wand once more and the plant grew massive clusters of honeysuckle and thorns. Flitwick walked by his desk, leaned in to inspect Harry's work, and smiled brightly when the flowers bloomed. 

       “This looks brilliant, Mr Potter. You truly have the touch of your mother.”

       Harry smiled sheepishly and thanked him, vanishing the plant once the professor walked away. He was fairly happy with how the day was going so far compared to what had happened two days previously. Luckily, that was how the rest of his day went. His core shiver seemed to be less prevalent because of his use of magic, but he was left with tremors that didn't ease up, so when he was in transfiguration he ended up with a square bird. He huffed because McGonagall knew something was wrong, and when she asked him to stay after class he knew she was going to mention his performance. 

       “Mr. Potter, I would like to have a brief chat with you before lunch. Something is off, and I would like to know if I can help, because it's been this way since the day we got the prophet about you and Professor Snape.” Oh. So that's what this is about. 

       “Professor, me and Professor Snape are not and never have been in a relationship. You could test me with bloody veritaserum. Nothing the prophet ever writes is true. I mean, they supported the minister instead of me when Voldemort came back, for God's sake, and I watched him get reborn!” He almost yelled.

       “Mr. Potter, please watch your language. You are of age, but I am still your professor.”

       “Sorry.” 

       “Come sit down with me and let's just talk for a little. I'll get us some tea.” Harry reluctantly agreed; tea did sound good.

       They spoke for hours about career choices, classes this year, and general life. They touched on Harry's family for about three seconds before he switched the topic uncomfortably onto hers, and he was thankful she let it happen. He finished his tea and set it down. 

       “Potter, there is concern about you. During the summer you seemed so happy and free, and then something happened. It just seemed like something brought you and Severus closer together, and now the paper has ripped it apart. You both seem like you've hit a rough patch. What's going on? You know the conversation we're having is going to remain confidential.”

       Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Professor, with all due respect, I have already told you. Nothing is going on between me and Professor Snape. The prophet just made him hate me because they can't help but spew bull. Nothing about that paper is true. I don't know where they even got the notion that me and Snape being together could be possible. They're idiots and they need to be ignored.”

       She nodded sullenly, pulling her lips into a tight line. She squeezed his hand and pulled him into a brief, gentle hug before releasing him and telling him to get to dinner and  that she would see him in the halls. Whatever good mood he had built up over the day had disappeared with the ending of that conversation.

       He stopped by the bathroom to scrub at his face, but what he hadn't expected was to run into the man whom he was trying his damn best to avoid, in the bathroom doing the same thing. The man looked up at Harry in the mirror with some sort of pulled face while Harry blanked his expression out entirely. He figured he couldn’t back out now, he had already been seen. 

       “Potter.” The man grumbled. 

       “Professor.” Harry did his best to sound polite. He didn’t really care that the man truly despised him, did he? He stepped up to the sink furthest from his professor, washing his hands instead of his face as he didn’t want to look stressed in front of the man. He dried his hands off, ‘fixed’ his hair, then turned to the man and said, “have a good evening sir.” Harry left the room feeling crappy, but he squared his shoulders and walked out calmly whilst in eyesight of the man. At dinner, he sat next to his friends and made average conversation; talking to them about their summer and his own, the year ahead of them, and how ready they were for the professions they were hoping to enter. Harry could feel a pair of eyes burning into him, but he would not give those dark eyes a brief glance. He would not give the man the satisfaction of thinking Harry needed Snape’s approval or care. All he knew was that he really wasn’t ready to attend potions class the next day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 and 4 in the same night? what is this, productivity? Anyways, this story already has 461 hits and 36 kudos, thank you guys so much! Let me know what you think in the comments, everything you have to say is accepted. Enjoy the chapter!

       When the students were excused back to the dorms, the trio left together and got started on their homework. Hermione had more than Ron and Harry combined, but she still managed to finish it all before Harry had finished his second essay. For once, he was trying to do the best work he could on the essays assigned for charms and transfiguration, and he was proud of how they were going. With his pile of homework finished and his attention span for anything important eaten away, he cast a tempus, packed up his things, and left after making a lousy excuse of having a meeting with Mcgonagall. He walked through the halls quietly so as not to disturb sleeping paintings. Having not brought his map with him, he wasn’t completely sure where and when the teachers nightly patrols were placed, so it was only natural that he ran into someone eventually. However, he wasn’t particularly thrilled about who he ran into. 

       “Potter, what are you doing out of bed?” Snape snapped in the dark of the hallway. 

       “I’m walking,” Harry said. 

       “No, I thought you were riding a hippogriff into the sunset,” The man spat with his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “What makes you think you are immune to punishment for being out past curfew?” 

       Harry shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and walking usually helps. I don’t believe myself immune to punishment, I just don’t care. The worst thing you can do is take points or give me a detention.” 

       “You really are just like your father, you impossible child.” Snape sighed and looked around awkwardly, feeling like the usual punishments weren’t exactly what he needed for the moment. An unknown amount of silence passed when the boy spoke again. 

       “If that is all you want from me, I’m going back to my dorm.” Harry said. His fuse was a little short after the remark about his father, but he was unwilling to let the man punish him for cheek. 

       “Don’t even think about it, Potter. Besides, I…” The silence was thick with discomfort as the potions master turned thoughts over in his mind. Harry didn’t dare move for fear that the man would snap, and he didn’t want to chance prompting the man’s speech because he knew how the man responded to being cut off even if he wasn’t actually cut off. Finally, it seemed, the man had sorted his thoughts enough to continue. “I find myself obligated to explain my actions yesterday. The Prophet knows better than anything else how to get under my skin and bite like a blood-sucking tick. I realize the anger should have been directed solely towards The Prophet.” The man crossed his arms defensively over his chest and refused adamantly to make eye contact with the adolescent staring at him in shock. 

       Harry didn’t quite understand. Had Snape just apologized to him, the person Snape hated more than anyone else in the whole castle? He gaped at the man, unable to think of a response. He realized that the apology was backhanded, and that it wasn’t necessarily pointed at him directly, but he knew he wasn’t wrong to have read it as an apology from the man, and he would take whatever he could get. He thought for a moment about what to say, but apparently he was too slow as the man beat him to it. 

       “10 points from Gryffindor for being out of bed after curfew. Go to bed, Potter,” Snape snapped lowly before turning and walking away from Harry, his cloak billowing behind him dramatically. Harry stood stunned to his spot, a grin slowly spreading across his face. He just watched a man with more pride than a hippogryph apologize and admit what he had done was unwarranted. Harry wouldn’t say he’d won, but he’d definitely won. The next morning, Harry woke up feeling well rested and happy. Today he had double block DADA, then double block Potions. He took a shower, got dressed, and waited for Ron and Hermione to join him on the way to breakfast. He had finally learned about the DADA teacher. His name was Chancelor Abrahm, he was world-renowned for his defence work, and from what Harry had heard, his accomplishments were real; this wasn’t another Gilderoy Lockhart. He finished eating and gathered his things before heading to class with Ron early; he believed it was best to make a good first impression. They took their seats and waited until the students filed in slowly. The teacher was the last one to come in, and when he looked at Harry, he scowled. Harry was shocked and confused. Did he have something on his face? Was his hair worse than usual? He looked back at the man and sighed. He probably had something on his face; there was no reason to worry yet. 

       The lesson seemed to go well enough, except every time he raised his hand to answer a question, the professor glared at him until he put his hand back down. Harry kept his head down the whole class and rubbed a finger along his wand as he listened. He would have read, but it he assumed Professor Abrahm would have accused him of ignoring the lesson if he even touched the book while he spoke.

       “Mr. Potter, are you listening?” 

       “Yes sir,” Harry said dutifully.

       “What was it we were speaking about,” The man sounded extremely annoyed.

       “You were talking about the Patronus charm.”

       “And did you hear the incantation and wand movement, or does the defeater of Lord Voldemort thinks he knows it all?” Oh. Great. That’s what this was going to be, that’s what the problem was. Just fantastic. He could never escape this, could he?

       “The incantation is ‘Expecto Patronum’ and the wand movement is a loop in the air,” Harry spoke in a flat voice, mimicking the gesture with his finger.

       "What is the charm for, and what is the single most important thing needed to perform a patronus?” Harry could hear people snickering, but he knew it was because they were old members of the D.A. They knew that he knew everything there was to know about patroni, and they were laughing because he knew it so well he had taught a class full of students how to perform a corporeal patronus.

       “It’s to protect a wizard or witch from an attack, not only from a Dementor, but also from a Boggart in the form of a Dementor. In order to perform it, the caster must have their happiest memory in the forefront of their mind.”

       “What are the two forms?”

       “Corporeal and non-corporeal. The corporeal form is extremely hard for most people to form, especially when they are just beginning to learn the spell. However, I know for a fact that numerous people in this classroom, including myself, can produce a corporeal Patronus successfully because of their involvement with the D.A. in our fifth year.”

       “While that sounds impressive, that doesn’t mean it’s true. By show of hands, who can produce one?” Twelve hands rose in the air, and Harry’s was up with them. “Show me please.” 

       A dozen voices incanted at the same time, and the room was filled with glowing warmth from lions, a dog, a cat, and many other animals.

       “It appears you were telling most of the truth, Mr. Potter, but I have yet to see you perform the spell yourself.”

       “Sir, performing a Patronus charm takes an enormous amount of magic, and due to a certain incident a few weeks ago that I know you are aware of, that would be incredibly foolish for me to do.”

       “Mr. Potter, I don’t appreciate excuses. Do it, or you will receive a loss of points for lying to a professor,” The professor spoke with a nasty smirk on his face. Several students were yelling at Harry to just do it, but he knew that logically, doing the spell could cause his condition to worsen beyond repair. He needed to be careful with his magic usage, because if he didn't he would have several adults on his tail. Besides, if he truly had problems with what was happening, he could dispute it with the other teachers at the school. Casting the patronus charm was too dangerous, so he shook his head. 

       “You know I can't perform a spell of that strength right now, sir. It would be incredibly dangerous to my health.” 

       The other students in class sighed as the teacher smirked at him. “Ten points from Gryffindor. Now, moving on…” Harry stewed in his seat angrily. He was quite aware of the angry stares of the students, but he had been informed that his condition was a fatal one, and it wasn't advisable for him to cast a spell so powerful until both Snape and Madam Pomfrey gave him the ok. Class passed slowly. The conversation went back and forth between students the teacher liked while the man shifted between ignoring and glaring at Harry. Thanks to his experience with Snape, Harry knew that giving attitude back would make everything worse, so he just maintained eye contact and took diligent notes even though he truly didn't need to. Potions was fantastic, he found. No one was trying to sabotage him, no one was breathing down his neck and threatening to destroy the Gryffindor house cup should he put too much of something in. He carefully followed the instructions, as the class had been warned that anything that could go wrong with the potion could and would turn it to poison. The potion required a lot of prep, and when it came time to actually start making it, he could feel himself stressing over how fast-paced it was. His magic reacted in kind and the cauldrons began to rock, which freaked Dean out. Snape came over, and as he looked over Harry's prep work, he grasped his elbow as he stood beside him, sending a shiver up Harry’s arm. 

       “Good so far, Mr. Potter. Mr. Thomas, you need to chop the beetles much finer before you begin.” Dean did as told, and Harry learned to breathe again as they broke contact. He could feel his magic settling. The potion turned out well, but not fantastic, because in his haste to get the Holly twigs in on time, he went a moment too fast. Nevertheless, it earned him a nod from the professor that had him smirking as he began the essay for next time. The year passed slowly, going exactly the same way as it had the day he lost points from Professor Abrahm. He had barely left Snape’s side -  they had begun meeting to discuss potions theory again after the professor’s apology - except for the few times his friends dragged him away. Harry had an appointment with the medi-witch the day before they were to leave on the train. The graduation ceremony was great, and he saw numerous people kiss that he had no clue had even been in the running as a couple, like Seamus and Dean. He was extremely jealous, but he couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was that he hadn’t found the love they had within his eight years attending Hogwarts. Instead, throughout the year, he found himself slowly becoming very comfortable with the snarky comments and dour attitude of Severus Snape.

       He had gotten accepted into the auror program, and he was being shipped off in the morning to begin training. Before he could do that, though, he needed to be given the go-ahead by Madam Pomfrey. The appointment went well. Both Snape and Pomfrey were there, and Snape’s eyes didn’t leave Harry's once. The healer said he should be fine, but warned him not to overexert himself and take an honest care for how fast his heart was beating at any one time. He smiled, hugged her, and left with Snape. When they were in the empty school halls and the door clicked shut behind them, he found himself alone with the man. Their trek to the Great Hall doors was silent and comfortable, and he decided he liked the company on his way out of the school likely for the last time. They reached the train station and stopped. Harry looked at Snape, and gawked as the man extended a hand. He grabbed the pale hand and shook it, smiling gently at the final peace offering. They released, and Harry watched the man as he nodded and strode away silently.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured out the formatting issue in the last one, didn't even think about using the rich text option, but you know, how it be. Anyway, my day has been a rough one, I worked for 10 hours with the coworkers that didn't like to do their damn job, but how it be. So i'll do what makes me happy, and post my next chapter for you guys. Thank you for the kind comments, and the encouragement, you make my life greater! As per usual, all comments are welcome, all criticism good and bad are welcome, and any feedback is also welcome. If you notice any grave errors in judgement, let me know in the comments. Enjoy the new chapter!  
> Edit: This chapter has been beta read and edited by the amazing NyxsReincarnation, thanks to them, this chapter has better grammar, formatting and story telling. Enjoy the chapter, Thanks again to NyxsReincarnation, and I'll have the next chapter edited pretty soon here as well!

**A few months later**

 

       It had been close to four months since Harry had joined the auror training program, and it had been the most rigorous training he had gone through in his life. Quidditch made him sore, yes, but sore was nothing compared to the shin splints he had all up and down his legs for weeks, the constant aching of his gut, the several torn and mended ligaments and pulled muscles he had gotten within a day, and holy shit the running. Everywhere they went, everything they did, they ran. If they didn't run, they did drills for hours on end, and everyone quickly learned that they would much rather die from the running than die within the first ten minutes of drills. Their rigorous study program taught them what spells they needed to use during raids and their incantations, how to determine the next move a person was going to make, how to be quick on their feet and make quick decisions in dangerous moments, how to block some of the worst spells shot at them, and how to set up and take down strong wards. They had gotten hit with so many forms of pain spells, and once they were healed, they learned from their mistakes and were able to block quicker. Harry had been hit with crucio numerous times in his life previous to this, but the training was so much more intense. The curses were spaced far apart, but in all he had been hit with close to 25 cruciatus curses, and the recovery time was hard. They put you into a bed in a cold room and strapped you down, because these curses were not light; they were done to condition you so you could work your way through them to get to people. So in the end, the auror trainees were put through extended periods of harsh treatment. There was a reason no one spoke of what happened in auror programs: if they did, no one would join. As it was, very few people got in anyway. 

       Every other weekend, the majority of the trainees left the camp to see someone they cared for, because it was hard not to be with family for so long. Harry would go to Hogwarts and see the teachers, including Severus Snape. They would have tea and speak amicably. The man was still as snarky, and just as willing to throw insults at Harry, but he found himself laughing at them instead of being angry. When Snape asked what the training was like, Harry talked about how exhausting it was, how much pain he dealt with. The man listened when Harry brought up his shin splints, and put his quill down to rummage through his cupboards. Finding what he was looking for, he tossed it to Harry and sat back down to continue his work. Harry read the label and realized it was a muscle repair salve. Over the next few weeks he found a new tub of salve coming to him with Snape’s owl every weekend. Harry began to realize that he was spending less and less time with the other teachers and more with the austere man. These weekends were something he looked forward to, and they slowly became his favorite way to pass time. 

       Unfortunately, they stopped when he became a full auror, because he no longer had time to see Severus. Even as he did his work to the best of his ability and spoke to his friends in the office, he was lonely. Four lonely years later, Harry was faced with the largest bust of his life. They were finally going to capture the last known problematic death eaters on the run: Alecto and Amicus Carrow, Antonin Dolohov, Fenrir Greyback, and Bellatrix Lestrange. They had to be sure they took every possible precaution. They had finally developed a ward that prevented the death eaters from turning into the grey cloud they used to return to Voldemort when he called them, and numerous other wards to keep them from apparating from the grounds. The whole area was under surveillance; there was no way they could get out without being captured. 

       Harry led in a large group of people, all with silencing spells upon their feet, but the death eaters were ready, and they had more people than the aurors had prepared for. Harry wound up in an intense fight with Bellatrix. Everything was going well until he was hit with a stray stunner that ricocheted off a shielding spell, knocking him slightly as though he had been pushed. This was enough to give Bellatrix the advantage, and she threw every spell in the book at him. He was fine for a few seconds. Cruciatous was painful, but not unbearably so. Then his leg suddenly gave out, on fire with pain, and he fell to the ground screaming. Blood gushed from his body as he was hit with cutting spells galore. She wanted to punish him more than she wanted to kill him. He lay on the ground, attempting to get his mind together to cast a shield. Suddenly, her wand was flung from her hand and she was bound to the floor with strong ropes up and down her entire body. He felt hands trying to help him, but eventually they just levitated him off the grounds. He lost consciousness soon after. 

       When he awoke, his leg was throbbing, but he felt no other pain. Unfortunately, he soon discovered that he was also very dizzy. The door opened as he attempted to sit up, and his glasses were placed in his hand. A nurse stood by his bedside looking concerned. He looked at his leg. His knee was swollen, and a thin dark purple scar wrapped around the back of it. He attempted to move the knee, wincing when it began to bend, but forced it to move anyway. 

       The nurse pushed his leg back down gently, and held it there. “Mr. Potter, please stop causing yourself unnecessary pain. Let me apply this cream to your leg and you should be able to move a little better.” Harry went still and let her do so. “Do you remember much of what happened?” 

       “We were on a raid to get some death eaters, but I got hit by a stunner and Bellatrix got the advantage. What happened to my knee?” 

       “Well, we don’t know yet, but we think that she may have used an unknown spell. Unfortunately, we don't have a counter spell for it. It hit the knee joint and completely dissolved the hamstring. Luckily, we were able to rebuild it after a lot of invasive spellwork, but it will never quite go back to what it was, as the knee is mostly artificial now. You will have residual pain for a while, likely in the form of arthritic pain in the joint, and your walking will likely be affected.” 

       Harry processed this slowly, nodding with a deep sigh. This was honestly to be expected, he’d just hoped he would be lucky enough that he could go for many, many more years with no pain. Everyone who graduated from Auror training ended up having some form of  Arthritis, and even carpal tunnel if they were lucky enough to not have lost a part of their body or sanity, but Harry had this injury on top of that. It sucked, sure, but he supposed it could have been so much worse. He would be forced to retire, but the thing was, he had been unhappy to begin with in his job. It just sucked that he had gotten hit with something so life-altering before he could quit. He was ready to choose something that would make him happy, and teaching was the most intriguing option. His evenings leading the D.A. had been some of the best times of his life. He loved teaching people, but first, he had to know, “Were the suspects at least captured and taken into custody?” 

       The nurse shrugged. She wouldn't have known what had happened; he would have to ask Kingsley about the outcome before he retired. She rubbed the cream into his leg with deep, firm circles, and he winced before the cream kicked in. Warmth spread through his knee and the throbbing left completely; Harry sighed with relief; everything was so much better with magic. There was a knock at the door and it opened slowly to let in Kingsley and Ron. 

       “Sweet Merlin, Harry, you gave me the worst scare of my life. You went into bloody shock, were completely unresponsive, and now here you are. We thought you were going to die!” 

       “You always did have a habit of over exaggerating things.” Harry laughed with a rough voice. He requested a cup of water from the nurse and sipped it. 

       “And you always had a tendency to never fully die when you die.” Harry snorted, and water came out his nose as he laughed loudly. Wiping it away, he looked to Ron, who had a very worried half smile. 

       “I'm sorry to cut in on this lovely reunion, but unfortunately, Harry, you're going to have to retire. In your condition, you don't have the ability to perform the necessary auror duties. We will compensate you, provide whatever medical services necessary to cope with this injury, but we're going to have to let you go.” 

       Harry sighed but nodded. He understood, really he did, and it sucked, but he’d intended to give his two weeks notice soon anyway. He could barely stand being an auror anymore. It just made his nightmares worse, and most of his time was spent doing paperwork and worrying about being imprisoned for doing something unnecessarily powerful to stop someone or something. 

       “What was the outcome of the raid? Did we get everyone? Is everyone else ok?” Kingsley actually cracked a small smile and nodded. “Luckily, no one else is hurt beyond some bumps and scrapes, and everyone is alive. We got everyone we were looking for, and they are being put into Azkaban as we speak. If it weren’t for the accidental stunner, this would have been a perfect mission. It just all went so wrong so quickly, and we couldn’t get to her fast enough. You could have been hit with a whole lot worse if you hadn’t thrown that shield up so fast; god knows what else that woman had up her sleeve. It was a freak accident. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered such a horrific spell as the one that hit your leg, I’m just sorry you were on the receiving end. Nevertheless, thank you for being as brilliant as you have been.” 

       Their conversation ended heavy, but they smiled lightly anyway and shook hands. Harry agreed to the medical services, and Kingsley left him with genuine thanks for his service. Ron clapped his back, Harry wished him good luck, and he left as well. Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The nurse helped him to his feet and supported him as he almost fell back to the floor. He laughed it off as if this weren't life-altering. She handed him a walking stick that he leaned on heavily, but he eventually figured out the best way to use it as she took him back and forth through the long room. 

       He would need to wait for the next school year until he applied for a job, likely at Hogwarts, and he had a good amount of time to adjust to this lifestyle before he got there. Until then, he would study his old textbooks from DADA, and maybe visit somebody he deeply missed: Severus Snape.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making bad decisions as I stay up until 5 am to post this. This one is, I think quite a bit longer than the other one, but I hope that's ok. Comments appreciated! Criticism in any form appreciated! and feedback is very much appreciated! Enjoy the chapter!  
> edit: This chapter has been beta read and edited by the wonderful NyxsReincarnation, and I just want to thank them for everything they've been doing for me despite being incredibly busy with their own life. It means everything to me.

     The next day, Harry woke up in the hospital, as they had told him he would need to stay one more night to ensure the effects of the spell were completely nullified. When the nurse came in, she showed him how to apply the salve to his wound, told him when to do it, and handed him the jar. He changed back into his auror robes, which were a little limp from poorly done cleaning and repairing spells. He used the hospital floo, calling out the password that would bring him directly to his own office. He knew he would be gawked at now more than ever with his cane, awful limp, and bed head. He finished an incident report about his injury, filled out the retirement and report paperwork, and put it all in the direct drop box. He pulled out a box, and with a wave of his wand the contents of his office shrunk and filled it. As he was about to hobble back to the floo to go home his office door opened and in walked a crowd of people: Hermione, Ron, Kingsley, Draco, and even Ginny. A very pregnant Hermione shed some tears as she crushed him in a hug. 

     “Thank god you’re ok, Harry. Ron told me what happened, I thought you were going to die. We visited you as much as we possibly could, I had a false contraction and I was so scared you were going to die while I was giving birth in the other side of the hospital.” Her voice cracked on 'die', getting more hoarse as she spoke. She covered her mouth as more tears escaped her clenched-shut eyes. Harry put a hand in her curly hair, holding her as close as physically possible. If this was how distressed she got based on him being injured, even though he had been stabilized in his comatose state, his heart broke at the idea of her distress if he had actually died. In that moment he found himself intensely grateful that he’d lived to see another day, as he could still give his love to his best friends. He pulled back just a little bit to wipe away the tears on her cheek bones, and smiled at her softly. 

     “I promise I’m all right, Hermione. You don’t need to be worried anymore, I promise,” Harry spoke gently. “Your body probably started the contraction from all the stress you have, especially with another added issue.” Hermione laughed and shrugged. Harry pulled away gently with a genuine smile and hugged Ron close, hoping that he wouldn’t fall over as he lifted the cane off the ground. Ron supported him as his knee ached suddenly and almost gave out. He touched his cane back to the ground and pulled back until there was only an arm around the redhead’s shoulders. 

     “You better keep yourself safe. Whether you stay on the team in your career or become a captain, you better keep yourself healthy and safe.” Harry said in a half-joking-half-serious voice. Ron chuckled quietly, looking straight up to keep the tears  from falling from his red-rimmed eyes. He sniffed and enveloped Harry back into a hug, this time all encompassing and loving. 

     “If you get to make conditions so do I. You better take care of yourself. Sleep, don’t skip meals like you did when there was a case, drink water, and don’t internalize. I know you, and if I  see you lose a single pound when we come ‘round to visit, there will be major consequences.” Ron said firmly, finishing with a lop-sided grin. 

     Harry laughed and nodded “All right, Molly Weasley, I won’t forget to eat.” Ron and Hermione nodded in approval. He looked next to Draco and nodded at him, thrusting a hand out to shake. During his time working with the blond, he’d found the man to be nothing but respectable and diligent. He was still snarky, yes, but now teasingly instead of cuttingly. 

     The unspeakable nodded back and spoke quietly. “I hope to see you again soon, Harry, but under better circumstances.”  Harry nodded, stating he would be sure to make some home visits. With no small amount of hesitancy, he turned to Kingsley and smiled at the serious man. Kingsley handed him an envelope that held the terms and conditions of the retirement compensation and medical help. He shook Harry’s hand wishing him good luck in his endeavors, and with that they all left saying their goodbyes, leaving him alone once more in his empty office. He levitated the box and held it near him as he threw floo powder into the hearth and stepped into the flames.

     He arrived in his small flat and held his breath. It was quiet and cozy, but he felt uncomfortable, as if it wasn’t safe. The box landed on the ground silently, and he whispered the incantations to check if the premises were safe, tampered with, or de-warded. He strengthened the wards tenfold and breathed out when the spells came back with good results. He climbed the stairs slowly, grunting with the effort. He stripped and put his auror robes in the hamper before getting in the shower. It was so nice to have a hot shower after a hospital visit and even after a raid. It relaxed him quite a bit as the knots in his body detangled and his knee ache almost completely melted away. He hopped out after a good amount of time, got redressed in loose-fitting clothing, and examined the new scars from the cutting curses that littered his ribs and layered over the old ones on his back from childhood. He sat at his desk; compiled the papers with information from old, completed missions that covered its surface; and set them in a pile which would be addressed to Kingsley. He turned on his lamp and wrote out a note addressed to ‘Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’ to ask if they needed someone to fill the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the coming school year. He heavily warded both packages and gave them to Cleo (His new owl, as Hooters had passed away of age recently) to deliver. He sighed as he had to hobble back down the stairs. He got a kettle going, cooked a late breakfast of eggs and toast, then poured the boiling water over his instant coffee. He sat and lit a fire in the grate, eating as he listened to the silence. Since he had joined the Aurors, silence unnerved him; it reminded him of all the raids that started out in dead silence, only to end with many people actually dead. He much preferred a gentle noise in the background that wouldn’t allow him to go crazy with nerves. It had gotten to the point where he needed a white noise machine when he slept because the ringing in his ears and the eeriness of the quiet unnerved him. 

     When he finished his meal, he went to the sitting room, switched on the tv. He switched channels, eventually deciding to stop upon a gameshow he didn’t recognize. The gentle hum of the television set and the canned laughter in  the background of the show slowly lulled him to sleep. He laid back on the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. When he awoke he jumped into a sitting position, scanned the room, and tightened his grip on his wand, only to find an owl scratching on his window. He got up slowly, the pain coming back into his creaking joint, and let Cleo in. He noticed that it was much later in the day and the show on the tv wasn’t what he’d started. He hobbled to the jar on the counter, gathered a little salve, rubbed it firmly into his joint, and waited for it to feel better. He then got up to take what his owl had tied to her leg, and gave her a gentle scratch and treat. She hooted softly, and he turned to his letter. 

_ Dear Mr. Potter,  _

_      It is a pleasure to hear from you once more. In response to your request, Hogwarts will be in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in the next year, as the current one will be retiring to India. I would like to speak about it face to face. Does next Sunday at 8:00 AM work for you? Let me know by tomorrow evening (let your owl rest for the night; she had to make quite the trip this evening for her young age). I hope you are well, and _

_ I await your response.  _

_ -S. Snape _

_ Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

     That was quite the surprise, the headmaster was Snape. He was just as formal as ever. In a matter of moments after reading the signature, memories of the man came back, and along with them the associated feelings. He felt his stomach flip as he realized that none of his emotional attachment to the man had gone away: the image of Severus and his own brand of beauty, his form fitting uniform under a heavy black robe. He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. He gently petted the owl again and stuck the letter to the fridge door before turning the tv off and heading up the stairs to lay in bed and pretend he was going to be able to sleep. 

     The week seemed to pass slowly. He spent the next four or so days reading old textbooks, having conversations with Snape via owl, and scoffing at the Daily Prophet when it had gotten word of what had happened to him and that he had retired. He made lesson plans based off of what the students were taught and their class level. It was all practical work. He remembered the year in which Umbridge had taught nothing but theory, and it had to have been the worst class he had taken his whole school career. It was even worse than the classes in which the teachers threatened him, almost killed him, almost obliviated and then killed him, and put him into direct danger, because she had done just about every one of those except threaten to obliviate him. The  scar on his hand was still there despite it being so old. It showed up almost vividly upon his skin when he had gotten very tanned during his work as an auror. He was excited for the upcoming year, but he was even more excited for the meeting the next day. 

     The morning came all too soon. He was practically jumping with excitement, even though he couldn’t really jump anymore. He showered, put the cream on his knee, got dressed in his best robes, and spelled his hair into a neat look rather than wet bedhead. He grabbed his cane and his wand, put on his old leather boots from auror training, and left the house via the floo, using the password provided for him. He showed up exactly on time in the Headmaster’s large office. Even though he knew Dumbledore had been long dead and the room would therefore look different, he didn’t expect it to look this different. The room was a dark blue with white accents. Two light-blue armchairs and a sofa sat around a coffee table with a full tea set laid out upon it, all set in front of a lit fireplace. A set of very full darkly stained oak bookshelves lined an entire wall, from ceiling to floor and wall to wall. To match it was a dark oak desk with an equally dark man. Severus stood from behind his desk and made his way around it with his hand extended. Harry shook it firmly, but couldn’t seem to breath when faced with the man’s striking profile. His long dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun. His face was no longer quite as thin and sallow, but its features were just as strong. His lips were a lovely pink, set thin and unsmiling, but the glint in his dark eyes said he was very happy to see Harry. His outfit was dark blue, and hanging over his chair was a matching set of robes. He looked like he had gained some weight; he looked healthier.

     Harry smiled brightly when the man smirked. “Good afternoon, Headmaster, I do hope you’ve been taking care of yourself.” 

     “I could say the same for you. Please call me Severus.” 

     Harry shivered at the deep voice, then he laughed. “Well, as of now, I may have done a shotty job at taking care of myself.” At the look of worry that flitted across the tall man’s face, he moved on. “I see you’ve made incredible changes in your office compared to what it was.” Severus let the subject change. He nodded as he gestured to the armchairs and waved his wand to start pouring tea. Harry sat with a small wince.

     “The clutter of likely useless artifacts was annoying.” At Harry’s incredulous face, Severus continued, “I didn’t throw them out or sell them, Potter. You seem to take me as a petty thief. I just put them into a vault in Gringotts. I couldn’t take the busy-ness and the lack of open, breathable air.”

     Harry relaxed. “It looks wonderful regardless. So I’ve brought along my lesson plans for when I begin teaching; I thought you may want to look them over and approve them. I also wanted to ask if I could have my quarters as close as possible to the main level of Hogwarts, because this damn leg has major problems with stairs, and that added to the factor of charging children in the  hallways makes it very difficult to move around.” Severus looked down at his leg, then at the cane, then back to Harry’s eyes before nodding. 

     “I wonder if it is possible to heal what is wrong before the school year is up?”

     Harry shrugged, looking a little defeated. “Unfortunately, St. Mungos says it really won’t get much better; more than likely it’ll only get worse as I age. Are you aware of what occured?” Severus tilted his hand from side to side, offering Harry a mug of hot tea and retaining eye contact.

     “All I know is that it was a mission to capture the remaining problematic death eaters, but other than that and the papers saying you retired and got injured, I’m afraid I’m no more knowledgeable about your actual condition and its cause.” 

     Harry nodded, adding sugar and cream before sitting back and breathing out in a sigh. “Well, I was hit by a ricocheted stunner which unfortunately gave Bellatrix the advantage to give all she had. She hit me with a spell unknown to the ministry and St. Mungos that dissolved the hamstring and kneecap in my leg. They created artificial replacements, but it doesn't work the way it should because it isn’t the original.” 

     Severus’s face turned grim and slightly paler, but he nodded, gaining a speculative expression. He set his mug down and went to his bookshelves, looking through the many spines to find a particular title. He pulled a book out, and flipped about halfway through, obviously finding what he had been looking for as he climbed down. He sat beside Harry and handed him the book.

     “Saeclum? Dissolve? Seriously? They couldn’t have thought of anything else more creative than the word dissolve in Latin?”

     “Well, back then, the Dark Lord wanted something simple to say so that it wasn’t complicated during raids as we had to be quick about them...I’m sorry…”

     Harry didn’t understand. Why was the man who never apologized apologizing? “Why-why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.” 

     “I’m afraid I did. The spell she used was one the Dark Lord asked me to develop during his second reign. He requested for it to be irreversible. In the end, I was the reason it was ever used, and I carry the guilt of every victim it was ever used upon. I’m sorry you had to be on the receiving end of my mistakes.” Harry was shocked. How many people had been affected by this pain? How many lives had been completely changed, like his own? How could Severus have been the one to create such a horrific thing? He cut those thoughts off quickly. Severus was no doubt forced to create such things or lose his own life in the process. He was a spy, and he had to do some bad things so he’d never be found out by the second most powerful dictator known to the wizarding world. Harry would never hold that against the man ever in his life. 

     “Stop saying sorry. I won’t forgive you, Severus.” The potion master’s face turned dark, but then it went blank, and he turned away before standing, taking the book back gently, and walking away. Harry stood up slowly, limped to the man, and grabbed his bony wrist. “I won’t forgive you because there is nothing to be forgiven. You had no choice. It might look like you did to others, but I understand making tough choices, especially ones you ultimately have no choice in no matter how badly you don’t want to.” Severus turned and looked at him. The color was returning to his face, but his eyes were slowly turning red. 

     Harry continued, knowing he had the man’s attention. “I never wanted anyone to die in the war, because I knew that for the rest of my life I would carry the souls and the regret of everyone who died, even Voldemort. I hate that I murdered a man, and I hate that even if they were all just pieces of Voldemort, I killed 4 different people. I hate carrying the death of my parents and friends, Colin, Fred, Quirrell, and Cedric. I hate that I’m the one that brought him back to life because I couldn’t fight him. But these were things I had no say in. I can’t tell you not to carry the guilt. I have no place to tell you that, as I myself am guilty of this, but I just want you to know that even though you made it, it was not your choice to have someone use it on others. I can’t forgive what isn’t your fault. You didn’t do it to me.”

     Severus grabbed Harry and pulled him close. Harry returned the embrace and found himself having to put all his weight on his good leg. He ran a hand up the man’s back, holding his shoulder, and the other wrapped around the man’s thin waist. Severus’ held Harry tightly, and though Harry could have felt a slight hitch in the man’s breathing, he figured that had to be his imagination. Even if it wasn’t, he would allow this man to keep his pride by not mentioning it. The man in his arms was intensely private, and Harry was the luckiest to have burrowed his way into the man’s life, even if just a little bit. 

     They separated after Harry was sure Severus was ok, but this proved to be a bad plan. Through all of this - god only knows how - he forgot he had dropped his cane. He nearly collapsed when he put weight on his bad leg and it gave out, but Severus still had his arms partially around Harry and was able to catch him before he fell fully. Harry clung to his arms hard, wanting to stay vertical. He looked up to thank the headmaster and found himself nose to nose with the man. He turned red, he was sure, and his breathing was slightly labored. He wasn’t sure whether this was from almost falling or the smell of the man’s cologne he hadn’t picked up consciously while the man hugged him, but it made his stomach do a cartwheel and he didn’t understand why. They froze, not sure what to do after such an occurrence, but they still hadn’t moved, and Harry could feel the man’s heartbeat. Why had he never noticed the man’s eyes weren’t just pitch black, but had dark brown rings around the irises that made them glow when the light caught them? 

     “Am I interrupting something?” A familiar voice made them jump slightly apart. They turned to find the painting of Albus Dumbledore staring down at them with brightly twinkling eyes and a soft smile under the white beard. Severus sighed, mumbling something about this always happening, and held Harry tighter as he bent to retrieve the fallen cane. He passed it to  Harry, who thanked him with a bright smile. Harry squeezed Severus’s arm, which was still around him as he gained his balance to stand, and looked at the man in bright purple robes. 

     “Good morning, Headmaster, how are you doing today?” Harry said to distract from Severus rushing to put the book back before Albus could catch the title.

     “I'm doing well, my boy. How is your condition?” 

     “I'm coping, sir. Nothing to complain about other than staircases.” Harry chuckled at the slightly heavy humor. By this time Severus was back beside him, and Harry couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful man's reddening cheeks and black eyes almost glinting with annoyance. 

     “Good to hear. Severus, how's the interview going?” Severus looked at the man and answered with a hint of disdain in his voice. 

     “It was going well. We were speaking of lesson plans, talking about accommodations for his condition, and everything else necessary for him to take the position here as the defense professor next year.” Harry snickered at the amount of annoyance weighing upon his voice. 

     “I believe the castle may have already made accommodations; according to the paintings, a door has shown up on the first level that was never there before. Seems it knows what is necessary to help as much as possible.” 

     Severus crossed his arms and looked at Harry. “Want to go take a look?” Harry smiled, nodded, and looked back at the portrait 

     “Thank you sir.” 

     “Not a problem, my boy.” Dumbledore disappeared from the image. 

     “Meddling old man,” Severus murmured before grabbing his robes off the back of his chair. Harry grabbed his lesson plans and the contract, and they made their slow way down to Harry’s new rooms. It was embarrassing to have such a quick man walking beside someone struggling to keep up. The tall man looked concerned, but Harry refused to show anything was wrong. Severus knew this castle better than the back of his own hand, and he took smaller steps to work with Harry, but that just made it more embarrassing. The stairs were even worse. He almost fell more than once as the staircases switched on him and his knee gave out. If it weren't for his quick reactions and Severus being right beside him, he would have gone over the railing. He couldn't stop the embarrassment from overcoming him and withdrew into himself until they made it to the first floor. 

     “This must be the room; I've never seen this door before.” Severus spoke with a clear tone of curiosity. Harry felt anxiety fill his chest as he watched the man reach for the door handle. His auror training came back to him: if you don’t recognize a door or don’t know what’s behind it, you never just open it. Harry grabbed Severus’s wrist before he could touch the door handle and waved his wand silently over it. Nothing showed up, so he let go of the wrist. It was a  little red from how tight he had been holding it, but Severus didn't look in pain. Harry looked away and limped in slowly, casting a few more spells before shutting the door behind him and surveying the room. The walls were a pale peach color, and plants were scattered around the room with self-watering spells. The floor and furniture were a dark brown wood. The couches were topped with maroon cushions and peach throw pillows, and the fireplace was made of white brick. In one corner sat a large mattress with a dark maroon duvet, pale peachy sheets and pillows. Light streamed in through large windows, and the room was warm but not overly so. Harry smiled, the school seemed to understand the environment he liked to live in. A presence beside him shocked him, but it was just Severus, so he breathed calmly and caught himself unconsciously leaning into the man. Severus was looking around too, and the sun caught his eyes and the sharp contours of his face, making him seem as though he were glowing.

     “So, the school seems to do well to fill and build rooms around what people are like in their subconscious; that's why the headmaster's office is now blue and filled with shelves. This… admittedly surprises me a bit. I expected auror colors or red and gold.” 

     Harry smirked and turned to him. “Not the cocky Gryffindor you imagined?” 

     Severus looked him up and down, and the look in his eyes made them light up slightly before he rolled them. “No, you're still both of those things, you just like a different color scheme than I thought. Anyways, I should probably get back to my office, I've got students coming later tonight. Another pair of bloody twins working with peeves, and to make it worse, they're red-headed too.” The man sneered but Harry knew it to be half hearted. 

     Harry laughed at the mention of the twins. Something twinged in his heart at remembering the war, but he moved forward. “So I’ve got the job?” 

     “I think it would be a mistake to pass up on the opportunity to have Harry 'golden boy’ Potter himself teach a defense class. I'll expect you to have moved in by the end of the school year.” Harry nodded and shook the man's warm hand. 

     “Will do. We should meet up sometime between now and then for lunch to discuss the position further. I just need to know when you'll be free. Thank you for making time for me today. It was good to see you again for the first time in over four years, headmaster.”

     “Oh don't even try to trick me,” he scoffed with a smirk. “'Headmaster’, you know you want to call me literally anything else, it may as well be Severus.” Severus released Harry’s hand and took a step back. 

     “Alright then, Severus. Have a good day.” Grabbing a handful of the floo powder from the mantle above the fireplace in his new rooms, he called out his address and walked into the  flames with a smile over his shoulder. He was more than ready for his upcoming year back at Hogwarts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! here's another chapter that I finally decided to post. I'm hoping this one flows smoothly, I feel like it was choppy as I wrote it, but let me know what you think. I hope you enjoy, the comments on the last chapter made me so so so happy, thank you to everyone that had a nice thing to say! Comments are appreciated, feedback is appreciated and reviews are appreciated. If being a beta is something you'd be interested in, I would love to have someone edit my stories and stuff, just let me know in the comments. Enjoy the chapter! EDIT: This chapter has been edited by the lovely NyxsReincarnation, absolutely adore you, you amazing human. I'm sorry it took so long! Enjoy!

       A few weeks later, Harry had finally moved everything from his flat to his new Hogwarts room and had officially moved into Hogwarts. The rest of the school year passed relatively quickly, and before he knew it the classes were preparing for end of year finals. The spring time was usually rough for Harry because everything bad seemed to have happened in the dead of spring at the end of every school year. As he woke up every morning with pains in his knee, he had to continuously remind himself that he wasn’t the one going to school, and he wasn’t on the run from a crazed dictator, but it was harder some days than others.

       Today had been one of those days, where Harry woke up and took a solid 2 minutes to convince himself he wasn’t cold, he wasn’t in a tent in the middle of a snowy forest, and that he could hear the happy laughter and talking of students walking in the hallway. But that just made him feel more isolated; so he got dressed, took a shower, put the ointment on his knee, grabbed his cane, and flooed to the headmaster’s office. Severus was perusing his bookshelves, a task which was likely related to the cauldron sitting on a conjured table taking up the space of the moved sofas. Severus turned to look at Harry from the ladder, and nodded.

       “Hello Harry, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” 

Harry just shrugged, smiling lightly at the tall man. How he longed to just lean into the strong man’s chest and ignore the world for half a second, but he knew that most people preferred less physical contact than Harry craved. Harry had no foreseeable limit to the physical affection he wanted (needed, actually), and gave; in fact, he found himself wanting more the more he got from people. Maybe this was a sign to stop being so clingy? Maybe the lack of physical affection from the Dursley’s was only now coming out because someone was showing him how enjoyable an experience it could be? Those damn Dursleys.

       “I’m just dropping by. What are you brewing?” Severus had obviously noticed the distinct lack of ‘Harry’ in the response, and the very clear pause before Harry replied, but he had apparently also picked up on the bags under Harry’s eyes, because he walked over after setting the book down and felt Harry’s head.

       “You look a bit peaky; did you get much sleep last night?” Bingo. Harry shook his head and shrugged.

       “Bit of a rough night last night. And the night before, and the night before that one. The past few weeks have been pretty rough, but it has always been this way since I was young.” Severus eyed him up and down and decided he’d had enough with not digging into these weird little extra drops about Harry’s life. 

       “Could you expand a little on what you mean?” 

       Harry bit his lip and looked anywhere but at Severus. He wandered to the couch to sit, called Dobby and asked for him to bring some tea for them both. Harry breathed deeply before muttering softly, “I’ve just always hated when school got out, and everything bad happens in the spring.” 

       Severus felt confused at this for several moments before he made himself think about it. Each of Harry’s years as a Hogwarts student had ended badly in one way or another, and it was always in the spring time when the shit hit the metaphorical fan. But he had said something about it being ‘ever since he was young, which likely meant that he was including his life before Hogwarts as well. He said he always hated school ending, but that wasn’t exactly what any child would say.

       “I understand your feeling about this from your time at Hogwarts, but what about before you turned eleven? Why did you dislike the end of school?” Harry held his mug tightly, it was trembling and the liquid sloshed precariously. He took a sip of the scalding liquid, and just shook his head.

       “I’m not really up to talking about it, I apologize.” Severus took the cup from Harry’s hand and put it down before turning to look at him properly. 

       “If it’s affecting you this badly even before you take on the workload of a teacher at a boarding school, I worry for your emotional and physical state when you do begin your occupation here. This isn’t just about work, I worry about you more than I do your job, but I believe you should talk about it, whether it be with me, another teacher here, or someone outside the school, because this is obviously not new, and your hesitancy to speak about it worries me.” Harry shook his head again

       “I really don’t want anyone to know, but if someone has to know I would prefer it to be you. I don’t trust the world with my personal life,” Harry looked at Severus, then turned his gaze towards his anxiously wringing hands. “School was my one place away from my relatives. Life with the Dursley’s was a bit rough from the ages of one to eleven, and I won’t go into many details about the goings on, but I will say there was no love for me. I did not belong there, and they made sure I knew that.” Harry fell silent and clenched his hands until the tips of his fingers were white. “Would you believe me if I told you that when I left Hogwarts my first year I weighed seven stone, but when I came back for my second year I only weighed five? I never realized how likely it was that I could have died, I was 12 because they didn’t believe I . . . deserved . . .” He stopped, and shook his head. He waited for a response, but when it didn’t come, he took a deep breath to still his quivering hands and soothe his tense muscles before he stood and made his way for the fireplace. He should never have done a thing like this.

“I do sincerely hope that you aren’t interpreting my silence as pity; because if you are, you are certainly mistaken.” 

       Harry stopped, but didn’t dare to look back at the man. “I just hope that my choice of telling you hasn’t affected the way you see me, because I am not a different person, you just have more information about me.”

       “If I looked at you differently because of that, I would be a hypocrite. If I told you I lived a similar life to yours, would you believe me?” Harry turned to look at him in surprise.

       “Your parents? But I thought your mother…”

       “That’s the only real difference, I had my mother there with me through it all until my 5th year when she passed away. My father went too far, and she never recovered.” 

       Harry shook when he heard this, because it made him think of all the times as a child when he’d thought he would succumb to the same thing. For numerous reasons, he really should have been dead by now. He rubbed his eyes to clear his blurry vision and sat back down on the couch.

       “All I know is that everything bad in my life began or happened in the spring or summer, and I haven’t really been able to cope with it. I hope you didn’t feel obligated to share that because you felt bad.”

       “I didn’t share it because I felt bad. I shared it because if I am to expect someone to share something personal, it is my own belief that I should give the same back to build trust between us. This creates a better work environment and relationship between two people.” 

       Harry nodded and finally looked up to meet his eyes. “Sorry to interrupt your potion-making. I understand you have limited time to do such things anymore, but thank you for letting me talk to you and be here at least. Do you want some help with your potion?”

       “That actually would be very much appreciated. What is the state of your leg?”

       “It’s doing pretty well. I only put the cream on about ten minutes ago, so I’ve got several hours until I need more. What are you making?” Harry whispered a cleaning spell to cleanse all the way up to his elbows as they made their way to the potion table, the previous conversation forgotten in a blink.

       “I have been contacted by St. Mungos to try and make a potion to help with arthritis permanently, as there have been numerous cases that have come up since the war of arthritic pains in joints due to spells and injuries such as yours. They have research on it already so far, but that’s as far as they have gotten because research can only do so much. Experimentation on the actual potion is extremely important to produce a working product, whereas research is purely theoretical.” Harry nodded, already knowing these things, but didn’t touch anything on the table as his interference could affect anything in any way and possibly ruin the potion.

       “I already have a few ideas on what can help arthritis. Usually cold flares up pain and heat relieves it. Numbing agents generally help, but if they can’t feel the joint it will be practically unusable. We also have to factor in the cause of the arthritic problem and how to help all ranges of causes in whatever way we can. So I have included ingredients to produce heat, but the joints also tend to get inflamed, and while heat relieves pain, cold reduces inflammation, so the cold has to remain dormant until it detects inflammation or swelling. So I included ingredients to create just enough cold to lower inflammation and then go dormant again. However, this is purely theoretical based on how I know the ingredients will react together, so we have to try it out to know. Those jalapenos need to be skinned then rubbed between your hands gently but quickly until they release warmth on their own. I will tell you when to start doing this. The whole process needs to be done within a two-minute time frame or the peppers will stop producing heat and they will wilt from the rubbing. I will be doing the other one with you because we need two. Are the steps clear?” Harry nodded and set peppers in front of both of them.

       Severus started the base of a neutral salve as they spoke amicably about what they were going to do over the summer break. He set a timer when the salve was almost done, and when it hit its final stage he flicked his wand to start the clock and they began on the peppers. He counted down and they held the peppers over the potion until the timer beeped, then they dropped them in. The potion immediately turned a dark purple and began boiling. Severus’ lips quirked up gently, and Harry guessed it worked the way he wanted. Then the man lifted his wand and raised shields around them.

       “This next part could be volatile, so we need to take precautions.” He grabbed three bags of powders and poured them in at the same time when the cauldron stopped bubbling. It immediately turned an icy blue and Harry hoped this was a good thing. He heard a gentle humming coming from the man, and looked at him. Severus was looking at the potion intently, stirring it quickly and methodically, talking to himself under his breath, and then he heard a gentle beep and the heat was immediately extinguished. The liquid in the cauldron slowly coagulated, and Severus’ brows furrowed. He gathered this thin lotion like substance into a little tub, and avoided contact with it.

       “Interesting, it wasn’t supposed to be a salve.

       “So how do we test it to see if it works?” Severus ‘hmmed’ and nodded at the question. 

       “We try it out and hope it doesn’t kill us. We don’t begin with a major area, we do a patch test to see if it reacts badly, well, or even at all.” He scooped up a dob of it and rubbed it on his arm in a small area. Several minutes later, he snatched up his wand and cleaned it away. “Nope, that is definitely not it.” Harry looked at him.

       “What happened?” Severus banished the substance and cleaned out the tub thoroughly. 

       “It started out fine. It heated up as planned, and because it didn’t sense any inflammation it stayed warm, but it began to heat up even further to temperatures that would be damaging.” Harry looked concerned, but Severus quickly added, “I removed it before it could do anything, I’m well-practiced in recognizing signs that something bad will happen. That’s the problem with testing; you can’t just do it on anyone, and it can be potentially deadly, there have been problems with the ethicality of it all in the wizarding world for some time.” 

       Harry nodded but grabbed his arm to examine where the salve had been. There was just the slightest of red in the area of the patch test, but it didn’t look worse than maybe a singe you would get from a hot pan. He ran gentle fingertips over the mark, and goosebumps ran up the man’s arm. He grinned mischievously at the sight, but the other man was looking elsewhere, mostly at his dicta quill to see what had been written down.

       “Well, I’m glad to see you’re ok. What needs to be fixed on it then? I assume that it needs to be less of the peppers?” 

       Severus nodded. “Yes, I’m thinking maybe just one. Theory can get you pretty far, but don’t ever assume it’ll be correct, even if you’re a natural at potions.” 

       Harry nodded and smiled. “Let’s try again.” They spent the next hour or so making different versions of Severus’ concoction. In the end the ratio had been twice as much of the powders as he’d originally put in to half of the peppers, and it had finally come out as an actual potion. When it passed the drinking test, as after more than 5 hours the potion still helped Severus’ aching feet and presented no side effects, he declared it safe for experimental testing. He collected some more of the potion and told Harry to drink it, knowing that Harry’s salve would be wearing off by now. Harry was slightly hesitant.

       “I promise it’s safe, and should something go wrong, there is a way for me to remove it from your stomach that isn’t inducing vomiting.” Harry laughed and the man smirked. After a moment, his smirk softened as Severus added, “I would like you to be the first person to try it out. I want you to be the first one it works on.” 

       Harry burned red but smiled brightly. His leg had started aching a bit ago, and it was sweet that Severus would offer him something of so much value. He grabbed the vial and, retaining eye contact, downed its contents. The pain in his knee immediately went down to a very dull, painless throb, and he could feel the warmth changing to cold in the affected areas, eventually becoming warm as the pain went away. It was miraculous. He bent over, and grabbed Severus in a hard hug, practically chanting thank you as the man held him. They stood, and Harry tested it out by walking a bit. He felt a weird slight twinge in his knee, but it didn’t hurt, it only made him limp a bit. He looked at the man, and grabbed him once more in the tightest of hugs.

       “Thank you so much, Severus, I can’t thank you enough.” Severus hugged him back, and when they finally pulled away he spoke: 

       “Because it is still in its beginning phases, it likely won’t last forever, but it should still last for a couple days, so you’ll need to retake it. You’ll have to alert me to when you need more of it and try to keep track for the next couple months of the time lengths before you have to take another dose.” 

       Harry nodded and pulled back. He grabbed his cane and smiled at the man again. “You’re a miracle worker, Severus Snape.”

       “I hope it was enough to brighten your day just a little bit.” Harry leaned forward and kissed the man’s cheek. He could have sworn Severus had leaned in too, and that there was disappointment in his eyes when he pulled away, but it disappeared within a moment. Must have been a trick of the light.

       “Well, I assume you’ll be wanting to get some rest, it’s been an eventful day, and soon the children will be leaving and we can get your classroom set up for your courses. I’m happy for you, Mr. potter.” Harry smiled and hugged the man again. 

       “Thank you, Severus. Have a great night, and get some rest for yourself as well.” Harry turned and left through the floo, smile gracing his lips and heart beating fast. He stood in his rooms, revelling in his new-found comfort and in the fact that he could now take his clothing off without increasing the pain in his leg. Sitting on his bed in boxers, he pulled himself under the duvet and curled up with a smile on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm literally the worst haha. But for some reason this chapter was so hard to write. I genuinely just want to throw them together right now, and I almost did. I had a previous edit of this chapter where they did end up professing feelings, but like, I realized that was not so much of a slow burn, and that's what I want out of this. It took so long to figure out how I wanted this chapter to go, and I hope I wrote it in a way that you can pick up on upcoming issues that could and likely will happen. But finally, after forever of being bad at post consistency, I'm back and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Feedback, review, and critique would be very appreciated. Thank you! EDIT: this chapter has been edited by the ever so amazing NyxsReincarnation, I thank you for everything you amazing person. I am very sorry for the massive time between now and the last time I uploaded, I started university last fall, and it's absolutely kicking my ass, I haven't had any time for writing, but I'm trying my best to get back on the band wagon. You'll probably see more of me posting by the time March ends, because that's the end of my semester, so I should be able to get back into the story telling and all that. Sorry again, I hope you enjoy!

He moaned as radiating pleasure and heat surrounded his cock. He looked down to see a curtain of dark hair falling around a perfectly set face and black eyes glinting with lust as that final inch sank into his throat.

       “Bloody hell, Severus, you’re so fucking hot when you do that- ah!” he was cut off as a finger gently poked at his entrance, somehow coated in lube, and slid in. The feeling was magical. A second finger was added, and the two pumped in time with the hand now stroking his cock as Severus licked and sucked the tip vigorously.

       “Sever-ah! I’m gonn-ah… gonna cum!” the man pulled away, continuing to stretch him thoroughly, and even that was enough to keep him riding across a very sharp edge. Severus’s fingers were suddenly gone, and his lips crushed Harry’s.

       “Harry, I’m going to fuck you.” He nodded at the man and watched as Severus ran his hand up and down his own cock, groaning as he coated it with lube. “I could come right now just at the sight of you, so thoroughly debauched and entirely mine.” he lined himself up with Harry’s entrance and pushed in. He panted and groaned at the stretch and the feeling pulsing throughout his body. 

       ”Severus! Oh my god… So big…” The man above Harry groaned, grabbed his hip and ran a hand through his hair before angling his head to kiss him. When he started thrusting, the feeling was almost too much, and he was going to come right there- 

       “Ah!” When Harry opened his eyes, he was breathing hard and his heart was beating thunderously in his chest. He looked down, saw the tent in the blanket and pulled it off. It was evident what had happened under the blanket, and he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. He looked at the clock on his desk to see that it was 6 in the morning. Breakfast would be starting in an hour. He stood and walked awkwardly to the connected bathroom with his problem between his legs. He got in the shower and let the hot water pour over his body. Running his hand through his hair, he trailed it down his neck and over his shoulders, down his chest, and gently grasped himself. Harry gasped for breath, and started running his hand up and down his cock slowly in ecstasy. He grasped for images from his dream, for the mental picture of Severus with his lips wrapped tightly around Harry’s dick.  Moaning loudly, he started going faster as he remembered how it felt to have something in his ass again. Finally, he came hard against the wall. It felt like it was going to last forever and his knees felt weak, it had been a while and maybe he should have done it in bed with how close to collapse he had been. 

       He caught his breath and finished his shower. He got out and dressed, trying to wrangle his hair into some semblance of neatness, but it seemed it wasn’t going to behave for him today or any other day. Giving up, he grabbed his cane and headed for the dining hall. He made good time considering he didn’t have to take into account any pain as he went down the stairs. Even though his limp still remained, it was easier to walk than it had been previously. He pushed the door open and walked to the front table. There were only about 10 students in the hall and most of them were all either preoccupied or too tired to care that he walked in. He noticed Severus sitting at the main table reading and eating, so he made his way to the seat next to him. Severus was reading an advanced potions book, which was open to a page for a pain reliever. He looked so involved with the book that Harry felt he would be intruding if he even said good morning. He grabbed his breakfast of fruits and oatmeal with brown sugar and ate quietly. He looked out over the dining hall as more students started to show up. He noticed out of the corner of his eye as Severus set his book down.

       “No good morning from you, Mr. Potter?” Harry looked over at Severus and fought back the flush that threatened to cover his cheeks. 

       “I assumed you wouldn’t appreciate a disruption of your morning reading, Severus, but good morning; I hope you had a good night's rest.”

       “I did, and I hope you did too. Good morning. And you could never be an interruption, Mr. Potter; you’re a welcome voice here.” Harry felt himself flush a little bit. He took another bite and smiled at the man who seemed to have a small smile encroaching on his lips, which made Harry smile wider. 

       “I had a good night's rest for the first time in a while, thank you for asking. What are you doing with the potions book, if I may ask?”

       “Well, there are a few potions whose ingredients lengthen their longevity and create lasting effects. One potion in here lasts forever or until the antidote is given, and I’m trying to find it so I can find the ingredient that creates the longevity. Then I will attempt to add that ingredient to the potion I created yesterday. Of course, I must also create an antidote for it in case the person that takes it has a bad reaction. My chances are fairly low, but it's always nice to hope that something good will happen when you try something new.” 

       Harry listened, staring at the man as he spoke with hand gestures and subtle facial changes. Severus’ eyes were glittering as he spoke with interest. He looked like he was reciting poetry to a crowd. Was he always this alluring? Severus looked pointedly at Harry, and he realized he was being asked something. He pulled himself out of his admiration and asked him to repeat himself as he fought back another flush. 

       “How is your leg feeling? I noticed you have your cane.” Harry hummed and nodded.

       “It feels great. There’s no residual pain, but the healers said it would be a little while before I can walk without a limp. But it feels so much better, thanks for asking. How are you feeling? Did you get good rest?” Severus looked relieved when he heard Harry’s leg was better, and they spoke together over breakfast. Students were filling the dining hall by now, and the relaxing hum of their early-morning chatter echoed in the cavernous space.

       “I slept well, thank you for asking. May I request you keep a journal to record your daily effects of the potion? It seems so tedious, but I find it is very important, and maybe… possibly we could meet on an arranged day to talk about it?” Harry smiled as the gentle voice got quieter as if to keep a secret from any lingering eavesdroppers. Harry thought for the briefest of moments that the man was asking for a date, but he squashed that thought way, way back into his mind. He wasn’t even close to the type of person Severus would be attracted to. He wasn’t very intelligent, and he wasn’t very charming; he was just a man with a limp. Unfortunately, he suddenly realized that he wanted it to be a date. But the man was only asking to talk about the journal, so that had to be all this was about. Potions. That’s it. So Harry agreed and put up a facade.

       “I think that would be wonderful. Maybe Monday night at Dinner? We could go somewhere nearby and grab a bite as we talk.” 

       “That sounds like a great plan, Mr. Potter. I shall arrange a place and time for us to meet. I will see you at Dinner?” 

       “Yes you will. I’ll see you then, Severus.” Harry stood, grabbed his cane and made his way out of the great hall, trying to avoid contact with the students. He sat at his desk and stared at the journal in which Severus had requested that he talk about his experience with the potion. He recalled the first day of its usage, what it had done and at what time of the day, but he wondered if there was a reason to mention the dreams he had been having about the man nearly every night since he had taken the potion. However, he didn’t see why a potion hoping to cure arthritic pains would have any way of building sexuality after being dosed. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to keep track of it; after all, what if the potion did have the side effect of amplifying sexual desires? So he waved his wand over his journal to create a replica, as he really loved the cover and hadn’t been able to find the company he bought it from since, and wrote out in great lengths the dreams and desires he had had since he’d taken the potion, and put it on his bookshelf where he hoped no one would look unless prompted. He would certainly not be bringing it up to Severus unless he asked directly if there were any side effects of a sexual nature. What he felt seemed like it was caused by nothing but pure attraction.

       He stood up and wandered his room and office, wondering what could be done to ease any boredom. He knew the adult answer was to finish his lesson plans as he still had NEWT and sixth year lessons to plan for, but something compelled him to simply ignore that, grab the thick folded piece of paper from his bottom drawer and wander the castle’s deepest inner workings. 

       Close to a week later, several days after classes had let out for the summer, Severus made good upon his offer of dinner. Harry had been keeping a very close journal, and he hoped Severus would be happy with what Harry had observed. He reminded himself numerous times that this was strictly a friendship and professional relationship, and as such, Severus held no interest in the things that he did, and he did not see Harry like that. They sat at dinner and laughed together. The restaurant was warmly lit, and soft music was playing in the background as loving couples exchanged tender gazes over their meal. Several times he noticed Severus touching his fingers and smiling at him in a way that Harry thought had to be more than friendly. But then Harry would take those thoughts and shut them down. Severus was just being friendly, and besides, it remained that he was not someone Severus would be in relations with. Harry didn’t hold any of the good qualities he knew Severus would look for in a partner, and he didn’t even know if the man liked men. Besides, even if by some miracle they ended up together, it wouldn’t last, Severus would realize what a lousy person Harry was, and how disappointing Harry could be as a partner. He would realize that he was nothing more than someone past his prime in his success. It certainly put a damper on his mood for the evening. 

       He tried his best not to make his disappointment visible, and he figured he did ok because Severus seemed at ease. They spoke for another hour, going over the journal in depth, and eventually they called it a night. They walked together back to the castle after reaching the apparation point, and Harry suddenly realised that turning down the overwhelming urges to ask if they could spend the night together was going to be the hardest thing he would have to deal with that night. Instead, he walked Severus to his rooms, stopped by Severus’ door, and told him he had a wonderful time and he hoped to do it again. 


End file.
